Then take out a second envelope.
I didn’t come just for that.
Put it on the table.
After Robert’s death, I received this letter.
Daniel immediately recognized his father’s handwriting.
His hands were shaking when he unwrapped the envelope.
The letter was short.
Robert confessed that he regretted the decision.
He said that, regardless of blood, Daniel had been his son and he would always remain his son.
But he wrote something else:
“If one day you have the courage I didn’t have, tell him the truth. I don’t want my hatred to become his legacy.”
Daniel has read that phrase three times.
Then he sat down and started crying.
I had never seen him cry like this before.
Michael didn’t come close.
He didn’t try to hug him.
He just stood in front of him.
“I’m not asking you to call me a father,” he said. I’m not asking you anything.
