I remember staring at the DNA test results on my computer, willing them to be wrong. My brain scrambled for logic, for error. But my heart… my heart already knew the truth. Life was about to change, and not in a way I could prepare for.
I’m Billy. I was the kid with the dream life—an only child, doted on by two loving parents who never said no to anything. My mom made the best pancakes on Sunday mornings, and my dad surprised me with the latest game console just last week.“For what purpose is this?” I asked, half-laughing, my eyes wide with excitement.
He ruffled my hair and grinned. “Does my favorite son need a reason to be spoiled?”
Mom chimed in from across the room. “You mean your only son.”Dad winked. “All the more reason.”
It was always like that—the three of us, a perfect little triangle. Unshakable. Until that DNA test came back.
It had started as a birthday gift to myself. I’d turned eighteen and thought it’d be fun to learn if I had Viking blood or something. Nothing serious. Just a novelty.The results landed in my inbox while I was pacing the kitchen like a kid on too much sugar. “Billy, honey, if you keep jumping like that, you’ll wear a hole in the floor,” Mom teased from the kitchen.
“Sorry! I’m just excited about the DNA results!” I called back, grinning.
When the email finally came, my heart started pounding. I clicked the link, ready to find out I was 5% Irish or whatever.
