My investigation started in the family photo albums. They were as boring as you'd expect, looking at other people's memories. And they were other people's. Just as I expected, I was nowhere to be seen in any of them. Packing a few of the albums under my arm, I went to confront "Mom" and "Dad".
I found them in the den. "Hello, John," Mrs. Paul said. "What have you been up to?"
"Proving something," I said.
Mr. Paul smiled. "What were you looking to prove, son?"
"I'm not your son," I said. "I was in an orphanage for five years, just a few miles away, and none of you even came to visit. I'm not in the family albums, either. What's going on? Who are you people, who am I, and why have you been pretending to be my family?"
Mr. Paul sighed. "I suppose there's no harm telling you."
"Evan," Mrs. Paul cautioned, "do you think it's wise?"
"We knew he'd start asking questions sooner or later, Deidre," he replied. "Might as well get it over with."
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