When the Eight-Year-Old Boy We Were Adopting Came Home With Everything He Owned in a Black Bag—Then My Missing Brother’s Watch Fell Onto His Bed
The leather case.
The familiar weight hit my palm.
Impossible.
Footsteps sounded on the stairs.
Oliver appeared in the doorway holding a glass of juice.
He saw the watch.
His expression disappeared.
“Where did you get this?”
