A Millionaire Demolished My Old House and Came Back on His Knees After Finding His Childhood Photo in the Ruins

Behind them, a fourth man stepped forward like the main character.

Late 30s. Maybe early 40s.

Expensive watch.

Perfect hair. Smile sharpened into a weapon.

“Mr. Brooke?” he asked, like it wasn’t a question.

“That’s me,” I said.

He held out his hand.

“I’m Elliot. From E&M Development.”

I knew the name.

Everyone in town did.

He bought land like gum. Grabbed it.

Chewed it. Spit it out.

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