A DNA test changed everything. I’d always thought I was living the dream—an only child with loving parents who gave me everything. But when I turned 18, I took a simple ancestry test out of curiosity, never expecting it to flip my world upside down.
The results showed a close match: a brother, Daniel. I couldn’t believe it. I called the company to confirm, but they insisted the results were accurate. Confused and shaken, I asked my dad if he knew a “Daniel.” His face drained of color, and he told me not to tell Mom—he’d had an affair years ago, and if she found out, she’d leave him.
That night, I messaged Daniel. We met the next day, and everything changed. Daniel revealed our parents had been in a fire when we were young—our real parents died, and I was adopted. I didn’t believe him at first, but after searching my dad’s files, I found proof: the fire, the lawsuit, and adoption papers that confirmed I wasn’t their biological child. My parents had adopted me to cover up their negligence.
Furious and heartbroken, I confronted Dad, who was too terrified to deny it. That night, I packed my things and left. Daniel offered me a place to stay, and as I sat with him, I realized how much had been stolen from us. But at least I had found my brother, and for that, I was grateful.
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