The man he had hated for more than a decade was facing him, asking to meet his ex-wife. He controlled his rage with some effort. His nerves threatened to burst with pain.
“Why do you wish to meet her?”
“She is my sister.”
“She never had a brother.”
“She is ashamed to talk about me. I have just been released from jail.”
A decade spun around his eyes in a flash.
He had found a photograph of Susan with this guy in the attic drawer. Their son looked exactly like him. He had divorced her, despite her pleas of innocence.