“Heal me and I’ll give you everything,” the millionaire whispered in despair“Heal me and I’ll give you everything,” the millionaire whispered in despair

His voice broke loose, rough and cracked, spilling into the empty space around him.

“Take it,” he shouted at everything and nothing. “Take the money, the house, all of it. Just give me my life back.”

He swallowed hard, breathing like he’d been running, though he hadn’t moved an inch.

Then a small voice pierced the darkness he was creating.

“Mister… why are you crying?”

Miles spun around so fast his chair let out a sharp hum.

A boy stood a few feet away, half-hidden behind the rose bushes, as if he’d been trying to be both brave and invisible.

He was small—maybe six—with messy hair and sneakers that looked like they’d survived years of hand-me-downs. His T-shirt was oversized and faded, and his eyes were wide with the kind of honesty children have before they learn how to pretend.

Miles recognized him.

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