Ethan
The letter arrived by courier three days after the DNA test, embossed with a family crest I didn't yet know was mine, requesting my presence at the Kingsley estate to discuss the results in person. I almost didn't go. Some tired, cynical part of me expected to arrive and find the whole thing had been an elaborate misunderstanding, or worse, some cruel joke dressed up in expensive cars and old grief.
Instead, a driver was waiting outside the motel at the appointed hour, and forty minutes later the car turned through iron gates onto a driveway so long I lost sight of the road behind me before the house itself came into view.
I had seen wealth before. Clara's family had money enough to make my head spin the first time I'd been invited, reluctantly, to one of their functions. But the
