The night my mom died, I found a savings passbook hidden underneath her mattress: it held $14,600,000, even though she had been surviving on a miserable disability check for years. The next morning I went to the bank, requested the account ledger, and my heart nearly stopped when I saw fixed deposits of $300,000 every single month for 18 years, all wired by a man whose name I had never heard in my life… until my dad pulled out a faded photograph and I saw my own face staring back at me from someone else’s last name.

“Harper Davis,” she purred, tasting my name as if it were spoiled milk. “Your mother always possessed spectacularly terrible timing.”