The Bride’s secret heir
There was only a single, faded photograph.
I picked it up. It was a picture of a younger Damien, probably in his late teens. He had his arm around a middle-aged man with a kind, weary smile. The man had Damien’s eyes. His father. They were standing in front of a small, run-down auto shop. *Sterling & Son.*
On the back, in a looping, feminine handwriting, was an inscription. *For Robert, who believed we could build anything. All my love, Grace.*
Robert. Grace.
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