Ethan
They gathered the whole family in the east drawing room the following week, and I stood at the edge of it feeling like an exhibit at a museum, watching people I'd never met study my face for pieces of a man they'd lost thirty-one years ago.
"Ethan." A man about my age crossed the room first, tall, dark-haired, with an easy confidence that suggested he'd never once in his life doubted his welcome anywhere. "I'm Marcus. Your brother."
The word landed strangely. I'd never had a brother. I'd never had much of anyone, growing up, beyond the quiet, careful love of parents who I now understood might have known exactly what they were raising, and where I'd come from.
"I know this is a lot," Marcus said, reading something in my expression. "Believe me, growing up as the son who was suppos
