“I didn’t want to go to court. You started this. I thought you would understand…”
“Understand what? That you would share like a brother? No. You turned out to be just as greedy as everyone else.”
“Greedy? Victor, you got a house worth four hundred and twenty thousand dollars. Isn’t that enough?”
“It’s never enough.” Victor stood up and grabbed his briefcase. “You know what, Alex… you’re no longer my brother. Consider yourself an only child. I don’t need loser relatives.”
He turned and walked out of the courtroom. Alex watched him go, feeling a strange mix of relief and sadness. His brother. His own brother. The one he grew up with, shared a childhood with, played in the yard with. And now, they were strangers. Maybe it was for the best.
Alex left the courthouse. It was a bright, sunny day. The first truly warm day of spring. The trees were green, the birds were singing, people were smiling.
He pulled out his phone and called Mrs. Gable.
“Mrs. Gable, it’s Alex. I wanted to thank you. We won the case.”
“Oh, Alex, I’m so happy! I knew it would turn out this way. The truth always wins.”
“Thank you. Thank you so much. If it weren’t for you…”
“Oh, don’t be silly, dear. I just told the truth. Your grandfather was a good man. He wanted you to have the car, and so you shall.”
Alex said goodbye and hung up. He sat on a bench, closed his eyes, and turned his face to the sun. It was over. The court case, Victor, the whole ordeal… The car was his. His grandfather’s inheritance was his. Now, a new life was beginning.
Three months passed. Alex quit his job at the auto shop. Greg was unhappy, but Alex had made up his mind: no more working for someone else. It was time to start his own business.
He found a small space on the outskirts of town, a former warehouse that he converted into an auto shop. He bought equipment and hired two assistants—young guys who were passionate about working on classic cars. He named the shop “Pete’s Pride” in honor of his grandfather’s car.
Customers started coming in quickly. Word of mouth worked wonders. Classic car owners heard about the new shop where professionals worked, and they came from all over the city.
Alex loved his work. He restored old cars, bringing them back to their former glory. It wasn’t just repairs. It was art. Every car had its own story, its own soul. And he was helping those stories continue.
His grandfather’s Bel Air had a place of honor in the shop. Alex didn’t sell it. Sometimes he would take it to classic car shows and win awards. People would take pictures with the car and ask about its history. Alex would tell them about his grandpa, about the war, about how the car had been preserved for 70 years.
At one of these shows, a woman approached him. She was in her thirties, with short dark hair and intelligent eyes.
“Excuse me, is this your car?”
“Yes, it is.”
“It’s incredible. Could I take a picture?”
“Of course.”
She took a few shots, then asked:
“Do you do restoration work?”
“Yes, I have my own shop.”
“Could you take a look at my car? I have a 1967 Ford Falcon. I want to restore it, but I don’t know where to start.”
“I’d be happy to. Here’s my card.”
She took the card and smiled.
“Thanks. My name is Anna, by the way.”
“Alex.”
They shook hands. Her hand was warm and firm.
“Well, I’ll see you around, Alex.”
“Definitely.”
She walked away. Alex watched her go, feeling a warm stirring inside him. He hadn’t felt anything like this in a long time. It had been six months since Tina left, but he hadn’t been interested in women. He had neither the desire nor the time. But this woman… there was something about her. Something real.
A week later, Anna came to the shop in her Falcon. The car was in rough shape. Rust, dents. The engine barely ran. But Alex saw the potential.
“Can you fix it?” she asked.
“It’ll take about three months of work, but we can fix it.”
“How much will it cost?”
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