“You’re not my father,” he snapped, his voice a low, lethal whisper. “Alan raised me. Alan paid for my life. You’re just some guy who donated sperm and rides motorcycles. As far as my life is concerned, you’re dead. I wish you really were.”
He walked away. And three weeks later, a drunk driver ran a red light and turned Ethan’s wish into a nightmare.
The Letter in the Box: A Secret Kept in the Dark
Claire, Ethan’s wife, eventually convinced the hospital to let me in. She found me sobbing in the hallway.
“I’m sorry, Daniel,” she whispered. “I didn’t know the extent of the lie until I went through his office today.”
She handed me a box. It was a simple cardboard box, tucked in the back of Ethan’s mahogany desk. Inside were every birthday card I’d ever sent. Every photo of us together from when he was a boy. Every gift I’d mailed to my grandchildren that I thought had been thrown away.
