Nora set down copies of the bank transfers, one by one, like she was dealing cards.
Ethan looked from me to Owen, then to his father. “Is he really my brother?”
Nobody answered fast enough. Owen tightened his grip on Claire’s hand. My mother started crying quietly into her napkin. My father picked up the letter and studied it, turning it over slowly under the light.
Derek tried to take control the only way he knew how. “Both boys need to sit down and stop listening to this.”
That was the moment something became painfully clear to me — for years, Derek had confused giving orders with telling the truth, and somewhere along the way, I’d let him.
My father flipped the letter over one more time. “This paper is from the stationery you used at your old office, Derek.” His voice was flat, final. “I’d recognize that watermark anywhere.”
