Patrick Collins stood at the top of the stairs in the Collins' mansion. When he'd left this place, he had thought--no,he'd decided--that he would never come back.
But here he was. Back to square one.
And as he stared at the large 'family' photo hanging there, perfectly centered like a crown jewel, he felt a pang. A bitter, quiet sting. Was this how his father was supposed to be? The man in the photograph, arm around his wife, standing tall with that easy smile- it had once meant everything to him.
For most of his life, Patrick had looked up to Robert Collins as an exceptional man. He'd admired him. Wanted to be like him. Marry someone he loved. Build a home. Be happy.
Who would've thought that after more than thirty years of admiration, he'd be staring at that same man through a completely different lens? Because the truth had come out almost twenty years ago. And this truth was ugly.
