“Your father left very clear instructions.”
Three envelopes sat on the table.
My brother Mark smirked confidently.
He always believed he was Dad’s favorite.
“Each envelope contains a DNA result,” the lawyer said.
My stomach twisted.
“Your father suspected something before he died.”
Mark ripped his envelope open.
His face drained of color.
“What?” I asked.
He looked at me slowly.
Then whispered:
“One of us isn’t his child…”
My sister laughed nervously.
“Okay… so who?”
Mark turned the paper toward us.
It wasn’t him.
It wasn’t me.
The results said something far worse.
Our mother had lied about all of us.