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

I took a slow sip of coffee.

“I’m part of something already,” I said. “My life. This house.

That’s enough future for me.”

One of his guys shifted his weight.

Elliot’s customer-service mask slipped a little.

“Look,” he said, voice dropping. “I’ve already spoken with the mayor. The permits are moving.

We’re breaking ground. This is happening with or without you.”

My stomach knotted.

“You can’t just take a man’s home,” I said.

My hand was shaking on the doorframe.

“I can,” he said calmly. “And I will.”

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