After my best friend passed away, I took in her son and raised him as my own, pouring into him all the love I’d gone without as a child. For twelve years, we were a complete family. Then one night, my wife shook me awake in a panic, saying she’d discovered something our son had been hiding. When I saw it, I stood there frozen, tears filling my eyes.

I had gone to bed early, drained after a long workday. I don’t know how much time had passed when I felt someone shaking me awake. When I opened my eyes, Amelia was standing beside the bed, looking pale and shaken, like she’d seen something she couldn’t unsee.

“Oliver,” she whispered. “You need to wake up. Now.”

My chest tightened. “What’s wrong? Is Leo okay?”

She didn’t answer right away. She stood there twisting her hands together, her eyes wide with fear.

“I was fixing his bunny,” she said quietly. “The stuffed one he carries everywhere—the one he never lets anyone touch. There was a tear in the seam, so I thought I’d stitch it while he was asleep.”

She swallowed hard.
“I found something inside, Ollie. A flash drive. Hidden in the stuffing.” Her voice broke. “I watched everything on it.”

For a moment, my heart seemed to stop.

“Leo’s been keeping something from you for years,” she continued, tears spilling down her face. “Something about his father. About his past. And I’m scared, Ollie. I don’t know if we can… if we should…”

“Should what?” I asked sharply, sitting up, confused and alarmed.