our front door.
Mom answered.
Then I heard a man’s voice.
“I came to see my son.”
I froze.
The stranger standing outside wore an expensive jacket and watch.
Gray touched his temples.
But I recognized him immediately from the few photographs Mom had kept.
My biological father.
He smiled.
“Happy birthday, son.”
Fourteen years without a birthday card.
Fourteen years without a phone call.
And suddenly I was *son*.
He admitted he owed me explanations, but apparently my birthday wasn’t the day for them.
Instead, he led me outside.
That was when I saw it.
A brand-new black car with an enormous red bow.
He lifted the keys.
“Happy birthday.”
I stared at them.
“That’s for me?”
“Completely paid for.”
Then he noticed Ray standing near the porch.
His expression changed.
Suddenly, I understood.
The car wasn’t only a gift.
It was a competition.
He raised the keys and
