I became a private driver for a wealthy widow because I needed money after she accused me of stealing, I found a hidden note from her in the car and was left stunned.

I slowly walked around the Mercedes.

I opened the trunk.

There was nothing unusual at first.

Just an emergency kit, a spare tire and an old blanket.

Then I lifted the blanket.

Beneath it was a black metal box.

It

was locked.

 

And taped to the top was a photograph.

 

I picked it up.

 

The photograph showed Mrs. Whitmore standing beside her late husband.

 

But they weren’t alone.

 

Standing beside them was a much younger man.

 

I recognized him instantly.

 

My hands began to tremble.

 

Because the man in the photograph…

 

Part 3 — The Truth About My Father

I couldn’t move.

 

I looked at the photograph again, hoping I was somehow mistaken.

 

But there was no doubt.

 

The man standing beside Mrs. Whitmore’s husband was my father.

 

My father had died when I was seventeen.