Daniel’s smile faded. “What do you mean? We lived together until we were five or six years old. Don’t you remember? And Scruffy, the dog, he followed us everywhere.”
I felt myself getting defensive. This guy was talking rubbish.
“My dad says you’re a trick kid. I only found out about you a few days ago.”
‘Wait…you think I’m a mistress baby?’ he asked. “So you don’t remember that day? The fire?”
‘The fire?’
He nodded. “Yes, our house burned down when we were little. Our parents didn’t survive.”
‘What?’ I was shocked.
“Yes, and I remember how you saved me. Then you were adopted and I was sent to another family. The adoption process required that I never make contact.”
‘That…that can’t be right,’ I shook my head. “I wasn’t adopted. I would know if I was.”
‘That’s true, Billy,’ he said. ‘I don’t know why your parents didn’t tell you anything.’
After our meeting ended, I felt confused and angry.
How could Mum and Dad do this to me, I thought. How could they hide something so important?
Back home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to find out more.
So the next day, while my parents weren’t home, I snuck into Dad’s office. I felt guilty, but I had to find out the truth.
Digging through some old documents, I found something that proved Daniel was right.
It was a lawsuit about a fire in an apartment building. The very building Daniel had told me about.
My hands shook as I read the documents. The fire started because of electrical problems in the building, and my foster parents were the owners. They ignored complaints about faulty wiring to avoid costly repairs.
Their negligence led to the fire that took my biological parents away from me.
What the…,” I thought. How is this even possible?
There was more paperwork, and it proved that I was indeed adopted. But what hurt the most was that my adoptive parents didn’t take me out of love or compassion. They did it to cover their tracks. To avoid a lawsuit.
At that moment, there was only one thing I wanted to do. Confront my parents.
In the evening, I waited for them to come home.
‘I didn’t know you used to own this building,’ I said, holding up the paper. ‘What happened to that fire?’
Dad’s eyebrows furrowed, but he tried his best to remain calm.
‘Oh, this?’ – He asked. “That was a hundred years ago. It was a tragedy, really. But why are you investigating it? And why did you come into my office?”
I saw the fear in his eyes. I’d never seen Dad so scared before.
‘It’s just that I met someone who mentioned the fire,’ I said. ‘They said we knew each other before I was adopted.’
Dad’s eyes widened with shock.
He tried to stammer out an explanation. It was something about not wanting to stir up painful memories.
But it was too late. I could see the truth written all over his face.
I hurried to the bedroom and packed my things. It was over. I couldn’t be in that house anymore.
I called Daniel and asked if I could stay with him for a few days and he agreed.
I remember Dad kept apologising when I left the house, but I wasn’t ready to forgive him.
Daniel welcomed me into his home and we had dinner together.
‘They stole you from me,’ he said as we ate. ‘From us.’
I didn’t know what to say back.
All I knew was that my whole life had been a lie, and the people I thought were my loving parents were actually responsible for the death of my real parents.
But as I sat there, I realised that this tragedy had led me to a real connection. Through it, I met my brother who had been waiting for me all these years.
And I felt grateful for that.
This piece is inspired by real events and people, but fictionalised for creative purposes. Names, characters and details have been changed to protect privacy and enhance the narrative. Any resemblance to real people, living or dead, or real events is purely coincidental and is not intended by the author.
The author and publisher make no claim to the accuracy of events or depiction of characters and are not responsible for any misinterpretation. This story is provided ‘as is’ and any opinions expressed are those of the characters and do not reflect the views of the author or publisher.