Inside was a single sheet of paper. Sarah began to read. At first, her expression was blank, but then her eyes widened. She went so pale that Mrs. Gable half-rose from her seat, worried the girl might faint.
When she finished, she looked up at her father. He was looking back at her with a calm, steady gaze—the look of a man who had carried a heavy pack for twenty miles and had finally set it down. “Dad,” she whispered. “Dad, what is this?” “The truth, Sarah. Just the truth.”
Sarah wordlessly handed the paper to Andrew. He took it with a frown, expecting a heartfelt letter or perhaps a small savings bond. But as he read, the color drained from his face too. A heavy silence fell over the head table. The DJ stood frozen with the microphone.
Andrew finished reading and sat down heavily, as if his legs had given out. “Andrew? Andrew, what is it?” Eleanor rushed over, her heels clicking sharply on the hardwood. “What did he give you? Let me see that.”
She snatched the paper from his hand, her eyes darting across the text. Her face turned the color of ash. The letter wasn’t a greeting; it was a legal bombshell. It detailed a history that had been buried for over two decades.
Twenty-three years ago, Richard and Bill had been business partners. They had started a small auto parts distribution business in a rented garage. Bill had put in everything he had—his life savings and a second mortgage on his house. Richard had brought less capital but claimed to have the “connections” to make it grow. And grow it did.
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