The envelope was heavy.
Not thick — one sheet, maybe two — but the paper inside had weight the way expensive things did. Damian unfolded it slowly, standing at the counter in the dark shop, the streetlight coming through the front window the only illumination.
Two pages.
The first was a cover note in Richard Walker's handwriting. Brief. Four lines.
This was written eight months ago as part of the formal engagement documentation between the Walker and Peters families. It was notarized and witnessed. My son wrote it without prompting. I want you to read it because I think you should understand who he was before you existed in his life — and make your own decision about what that means.
I am not asking you to hate him. I am asking you to be honest with yourself.
Damian set the cover note down.
Picked up the second page.
