I felt confused and angry once our meeting ended.

How could Mom and Dad do this to me? I thought. How could they hide something so important?

When I got home, I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to know more.

So, I snuck into my dad’s office the next day while my parents were out. I felt guilty, but I had to know the truth.

After going through some old documents, I found something proving Daniel was right.

It was a lawsuit about a fire at an apartment building. The same building Daniel told me about.

My hands shook as I read through the documents. The fire had started because of electrical issues in the building, and my adoptive parents were the owners. They ignored complaints about faulty wiring to avoid costly repairs.

Their negligence resulted in the fire that took my biological parents away from me.

What the… I thought. How is this even possible?

There were more documents, and they proved that I was indeed adopted. What hurt the most was that my adoptive parents hadn’t taken me in out of love or compassion. They’d done it to cover their tracks. To avoid a lawsuit.

At that point, I only wanted to do one thing. Confront my parents.

I waited until they got home that evening.

“I didn’t know you used to own this building,” I said, holding up the paper. “What happened with that fire?”

Dad’s eyebrows furrowed, but he tried his best to stay calm.

“Oh, that?” he asked. “That was ages ago. It was a tragedy, really. But why are you looking into that? And why did you go into my office?”

I could see the fear in his eyes. I had never seen Dad so scared before.

“It’s just that I met someone who mentioned a fire,” I revealed. “They said we used to know each other before I was adopted.”

Dad’s eyes widened in shock.

He tried to stammer out an explanation. It was something about not wanting to dredge up painful memories.

But it was too late. I could see the truth written all over his face.

I rushed to my bedroom and packed my belongings. I was done. I couldn’t bear to be in that house anymore.

I called Daniel and asked if I could live with him for a few days, and he agreed.

I remember how Dad kept apologizing as I left the house, but I wasn’t ready to forgive him.

Daniel welcomed me into his house, and we had dinner together.

“They stole you from me,” he said as we ate. “From us.”

I didn’t know how to respond.

All I knew was that my whole life had been a lie, and the people I thought were my loving parents were actually the ones responsible for the death of my real parents.

But as I sat there, I realized this tragedy led me to a real connection. It made me meet my brother, who had been waiting for me all these years.

And I felt grateful for that.