A rude millionaire who believed money could buy anything demolished a poor old man’s house to build a mall. While checking the ruins later, he accidentally found his childhood photo among the rubble.
Can a person’s greed for riches blind them so miserably that they destroy someone else’s dreams to build theirs? In July 2021, Florida-based real estate tycoon Elliot Morris happened to shatter a poor old man’s dreams to fulfill his pursuit of wealth.
Elliot was looking for a perfect landscape to build a deluxe mall in the city when his eyes fell upon old Joe Brooke’s land. The young builder loved the location and fixed his mind to raising his new mall there.
He decided to tear down the old man’s house on the plot. When old Joe objected to it, Elliot saw him as nothing more than a thorn in his way that was easy to get rid of…
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
“Please, I beg of you. I don’t have anybody, and this house is the only treasured memory I have of my late wife,” Joe begged Elliot, who had visited with his men. “I have nowhere to go. Please don’t make me homeless.”
“How did you get my mom’s photo?” the man asked old Joe. “That’s me with her. Do you know my mom? What is your relationship with her?”
But Elliot turned a deaf ear to the poor old man’s pleas. “Look here, old man. I already talked to the mayor, and he is on my side. I’m bringing this thing down in two weeks. All you’ve got is 14 days to pack your stuff and leave with whatever money I give you. Is it clear?”
Poor Joe was worried. He refused to accept a dime in exchange for his beloved house and kept crying. But Elliot was far from kind and walked away, grinning. “Two weeks and I’ll be back,” Joe heard the rude rich man’s faint voice from outside.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
Joe’s house was a bit farther away from his clustered neighborhood, so nobody stepped forward in his favor. The two weeks were nothing short of nightmarish for the poor old man. He hoped something would happen and change the rich man’s mind. He anticipated a miracle and never packed his things. But before he knew it, the day for the demolition had arrived.
“Please, I beg you! Please don’t destroy my house!” old Joe pleaded with Elliot and his men, who arrived two weeks later with heavy machinery outside his house to tear it down.
“Didn’t I tell you to pack your things?” Elliot retorted. “It’s not my problem anymore. Here, take this check and leave. I don’t have time to listen to your silly, old stories.”
Elliot ordered one of his men to take old Joe to the nursing facility. He handed out the check for the house, but the old man refused to take it.
Before leaving, a teary-eyed Joe looked at Elliot and said, “You’ve changed a lot, young man. Money has blinded you and ruined your soul…You cannot buy everything with money.”
“What rubbish! Take this old man from here,” Elliot ordered. He brushed Joe’s words as nothing and walked further to watch the house being torn down. Joy filled his heart as he saw the bricks and roof chipping away from the building, crashing onto the ground.
“I’ll be back in a while. Keep working, and do not touch anything until I arrive,” he said, driving past the dusty house in ruins.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
That evening, Elliot returned to the demolished spot to celebrate his feat. “Getting rid of that old thorn was so easy!” he exclaimed as he walked over the broken bricks.
Just then, he stumbled upon the broken glass of a photo frame. He looked at the photo and gasped in shock.
“Mom? What is her photo doing here?” he said, picking up the picture. Elliot dusted it and realized it was an old photo of his mom with a baby.
“That’s me,” he exclaimed again. “But what is our photo doing in this old man’s house? I have to find out,” he said and immediately drove to the nursing home to see Joe.
“You? Why have you come here? Aren’t you happy yet?” the old man cried after seeing the young builder. “What more have you come to destroy?”
Joe refused to look at Elliot, who held his hand and showed him the photo he’d recovered from the demolished ruins.
“How did you get my mom’s photo?” he asked. “That’s me with her. Do you know my mom? What is your relationship with her?” Elliot was furious. He had known that his mother was a single parent, and finding her picture in Joe’s house raised many questions in his mind. “Tell me…how do you know my mother?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Joe, who remained silent, finally spoke out, revealing something Elliot never knew.
“I found your mother Samantha on the road with a baby in her arms 30 years ago,” Joe said. “I was on my way home from my wife’s funeral and found your mom hopeless and drenched in the rain while trying to protect you.”
As Elliot heard this, tears slowly started to fill his eyes. “Then what happened?” he curiously asked.
“I took her in and gave her shelter. Her boyfriend, your dad, had kicked her out for another woman,” Joe narrated. “Samantha lived in my house for five years, and I treated her like my daughter.”
“But if she lived with you, why did she move out? We had a bigger house,” Elliot asked, still doubtful of old Joe’s revelation. “Is there something I’m missing?”
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Pexels
“I bought her a new house and helped her start a small business from my savings. She grew into a successful businesswoman but never forgot this old man. Samantha often visited me until she died ten years ago,” Joe explained. “I had also been to her funeral, but who would notice this poor, old man. You had grown into a successful, rich man, and I was happy to see how she raised you.”
At this point, Elliot’s heart broke. He recalled his mother once telling him about a loving father who was behind her success. But all this while, he had no idea that she had been talking about old Joe.
Guilty and heartbroken, Elliot decided to mend his mistake. The next day, he put up an “Under Construction” board on Joe’s property and ordered his men to build a new house there. In less than four months, a beautiful home replaced the one he demolished.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
Elliot gifted this house to Joe and apologized to him for being so ignorant and forgetful of his past. He also promised to do his best to return the old man’s kindness. But the humble man he was, Joe forgave the young builder and refused any form of help.
“You are my grandson, and I will accept only this house from you, and nothing more. I do not expect any material help from you other than your love,” Joe said, creating a massive impact on Elliot. “You are always welcome to visit this old man as my grandson, not as a wealthy man filled with guilt. Even your mom wanted to help me, and I had told her the same!”
Joe happily moved back to his new house and lived a modest life. He inspired Elliot and taught him that money perishes but not compassion and love.
In the end, Elliot built a couple of retirement homes for older adults in the city. He helped people in need and never tore down another house that belonged to someone else unless they were willing.
For illustration purposes only. | Source: Unsplash
What can we learn from this story?
- Do not ruin someone else’s happiness to build your dreams. In Elliot’s efforts to build his mall, he destroyed old Joe’s beloved house. He did not consider the old man’s pleas and ruined his happiness to fulfill his own.
- Create something useful for others when you get a chance. When Elliot realized his mistake, he apologized to Joe and built a house for him. And because he had the resources, he did his best to help the needy.
Every Night, My Late Grandpa Spoke to Me in a Dream: ‘Check the Red Box In My Basement!’ – One Day, I Finally Did
When my grandpa passed away, I thought the hardest part would be moving on. I never expected him to start visiting me in my dreams with the same strange message every night. I didn’t want to believe it meant anything — until the day I finally gave in and went to the basement.
I don’t know if you’ve ever felt truly stuck — like you’re running in place while the world around you keeps moving. That’s my life in a nutshell. I’m 22, and I work as a cashier at a run-down grocery store. It’s the kind of job where you smile and nod while people barely make eye contact, praying your register doesn’t freeze up again.
A young male cashier | Source: Midjourney
The pay is terrible, and by the time I cover rent and utilities for my tiny apartment, there’s barely enough left for groceries.
Life wasn’t always like this, though. I grew up in my grandpa’s house — a cozy place with creaky floors and walls full of old family photos. He raised me and my older brother, Tyler, after our parents died in a car accident.
Grandpa did his best to give us a good life and taught me everything I know about working hard and being decent.
But Tyler? He couldn’t have been more different. Immediately we turned 18, we found out our parents had left us a small inheritance. It wasn’t a fortune, but it could’ve made life a little easier.
Close up of two young adult men | Source: Midjourney
Tyler didn’t care about sharing. He drained the account, borrowed money from Grandpa, and vanished without a word.
I haven’t seen him since.
Grandpa and I didn’t talk about Tyler much after that. It hurt too much. We focused on getting by, fixing things around the house, and spending weekends fishing at the lake. Those were the good days.
Grandpa and grandson fishing | Source: Midjourney
After Grandpa passed, I thought the hardest part was over. I thought the silence in the house, the empty chair at the table, and the quiet hum of memories would be the worst. But I was wrong.
It had happened all so fast. Just two weeks ago, I walked into the house after my shift, groceries in hand, and found him on the floor. His favorite sweater was soaked in spilled tea, and the crossword puzzle he’d been working on was half-finished on the coffee table.
I remember dropping the bags, screaming his name, and shaking him like he could wake up if I just tried hard enough.
A heart attack, the doctors said. Quick and unexpected. Nothing anyone could’ve done.
Doctor delivering bad news to a patient about losing a loved one | Source: Midjourney
At the funeral, I kept waiting for Tyler to show up. Not because I wanted him there but because it felt wrong for him not to be. But, as always, my brother didn’t care enough to show his face. Just me, a scattering of neighbors, and a casket I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to.
That’s when the dreams started.
It wasn’t weird at first. Of course, I’d dream about Grandpa — he was the only family I had left. In the dreams, we were back at the lake, sitting on that old wooden dock with our fishing rods, just like we used to.
Grandpa was the same as ever: his baseball cap tilted back, his sleeves rolled up, smiling like he didn’t have a care in the world.
A young man sleeping | Source: Midjourney
“Caught anything yet?” I asked him in one dream, watching my line float lazily in the water.
“Nah,” he said, grinning. “You’re scaring the fish with all that talking.”
I laughed, and for a moment, everything felt normal. But then, his face grew serious, and he leaned in close.
“Listen to me, kiddo,” he said. “Check the red box in my basement.”
The first time it happened, I woke up and shrugged it off. Grief does strange things to people. But the dreams didn’t stop. Every night, the same scene. The same words.
A young man seated in his bed at night | Source: Midjourney
“Check the red box in my basement.”
After a week, I couldn’t take it anymore.
“Fine, Grandpa,” I muttered one morning, standing at the top of the basement stairs. “Let’s see what all this is about.”
The air down there was heavy, like the weight of a thousand memories. And then I saw it — a splash of red peeking out from beneath a pile of old newspapers.
My heart started pounding. Could this really mean something?
The red box was exactly where Grandpa said it would be, sitting beneath a dusty stack of newspapers. For a second, I just stared at it, unsure if I was more relieved or freaked out.
Young man staring at a large red box in the basement | Source: Midjourney
“Well, Grandpa,” I muttered, wiping my palms on my jeans, “let’s see what was so important.”
The lid creaked as I opened it, and I couldn’t help but laugh. Inside was nothing but fishing gear — spools of line, a box of rusty hooks, and a set of lures. There was even the old reel Grandpa used to call his “lucky charm,” though I don’t think it ever actually caught anything.
I picked it up, turning it over in my hands. “Is this what all the fuss was about?” I chuckled. “You really got me worked up for a tackle box?”
Shaking my head, I set the reel back inside and closed the lid. Maybe the dreams were just my brain’s way of clinging to him. Maybe it was all nonsense.
Young man opening a large old red box in the basement | Source: Midjourney
As I turned to leave, my foot clipped the edge of a nearby box.
“Crap!” I hissed as the whole stack wobbled dangerously before collapsing in a chaotic crash. Dust filled the air, and I coughed, waving it away. “Seriously? Perfect.”
But as I bent down to start picking up the mess, something caught my eye — a metal door embedded in the wall behind where the boxes had been.
A safe.
An old safe with a large circular dial | Source: Midjourney
I froze, my heart hammering in my chest. “You’ve gotta be kidding me.”
It looked ancient, the kind with a big circular dial and no obvious keyhole. I crouched down, running my fingers over the cold metal.
“What’s the combination?” I muttered to myself, my mind racing.
I tried a few combinations, starting with Grandpa’s birthday. Nothing. Then I tried Tyler’s, just to see. Still nothing.
“Come on,” I muttered, wiping sweat from my forehead. Then, almost on instinct, I tried my own birthday.
Click.
Young man opening an ancient safe | Source: Midjourney
The sound echoed in the quiet basement, and I froze. Slowly, I pulled the door open, revealing neat stacks of cash — so much that I could hardly believe my eyes. Fifty thousand dollars, at least.
My hands shook as I reached in and pulled out a note tucked beneath one of the stacks. It was Grandpa’s handwriting, shaky but familiar.
“For my boy — everything I couldn’t give you in life. Use it to build something good, and don’t let the world beat you down. Love, Grandpa.”
Tears blurred my vision as I sat back, clutching the note. He’d left it for me. After everything, he’d left me the inheritance he must’ve saved bit by bit over the years.
Thousands of US dollar notes inside an ancient safe | Source: Midjourney
“Thanks, Grandpa,” I whispered. My voice cracked, but for the first time in weeks, I felt something close to hope.
The money changed everything.
I didn’t blow it on luxury or take the easy way out. Grandpa’s note kept playing in my mind: “Build something good.” And so, I did.
Six months later, the doors to Peter’s Coffee opened, a cozy little shop tucked on the corner of Main Street.
The walls were lined with fishing memorabilia — a framed picture of Grandpa and me at the lake, his lucky reel mounted above the counter, and even the old red box, now polished and displayed by the register.
A cozy, inviting coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
People loved it. Maybe it was the smell of fresh coffee or the warm, homey vibe. Maybe it was because it was personal. I made sure to tell every customer about the man behind the name, the one who gave me everything when he had so little.
I thought about Tyler, too. I tried calling him, left messages on the only number I had, and even sent an email. But, just like before, there was no answer. Part of me wanted to be angry, but another part just hoped he was okay.
Young man smiling in his cozy coffee shop | Source: Midjourney
One evening, as the shop closed for the night, I lingered behind the counter, wiping down tables. The fishing reel above the door caught the light, and I smiled.
“See, Grandpa?” I said softly, looking around the shop. “I did it.”
I swear I felt a warm breeze sweep through the room, even though the doors were shut.
And in my mind, I heard his voice, as clear as ever:
“You did good, kiddo. You did real good.”
A young man standing in his cozy coffee shop at night | Source: Midjourney
Curious about another family mystery? You’ll love this next one: At My Grandfather’s Funeral, a Stranger Handed Me a Note – When I Read It, I Laughed Because Grandpa Had Tricked Us. What did he leave behind?
This work is inspired by real events and people, but it has been fictionalized for creative purposes. Names, characters, and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental and not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claims to the accuracy of events or the portrayal of characters and are not liable for any misinterpretation. This story is provided “as is,” and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.
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