A single email changed everything. I took a DNA test for fun on my 18th birthday, expecting to learn about ancestry—not
discover I had a brother. Confused, I asked my dad about it. He went pale and admitted to having an affair years ago—Daniel,
my supposed half-brother, was the result. But something didn’t add up.
I contacted Daniel, and when we met, he dropped a bomb:
we weren’t strangers. We’d lived together as kids until a house fire killed our biological parents. I had no memory of it.
According to Daniel, we were separated afterward—he went into foster care, and I was adopted. I didn’t believe him at first,
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