It was a folded stack of papers. Old. Yellowed at the edges. Tied together with a faded blue ribbon. “They were in his backpack,” Amelia said, panic sharpening her words. “Hidden in the lining. Oliver… they’re letters. And documents.” I sat up fully now, heart pounding, and took them from her hands. The first page wasn’t a letter. It was a birth certificate copy. Leo’s. And under Father—a name I had never seen before. Not deceased. Alive. My chest tightened. Below it was a court document. Then another. And another. Restraining orders. Sealed juvenile records. A newspaper clipping photocopied so... Continues…
I never gave much thought to that camping trip—at least, not until the phone call came and changed everything. When I walked into the school the following…
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