My Apartment Burned Down. My Parents Said, “Not Our Problem.” Then the Fire Investigator Called.

word—family. What it meant. What it should mean.

“Thank you,” I said. “But I need some time to figure out who my real family is.”

No one argued.

I walked out the front door into the February sunlight. The cold air felt clean after the suffocating warmth inside. My phone buzzed. Diana.

“She’s being processed now,” she said. “Bail hearing tomorrow. Richard’s continue reading …