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

“In case what?”

“In case the test is wrong.”

I sat on the floor instead of the bed so I was below his eye level.

“If the test says we’re not related, what do you think happens?”

“You’ll want a different kid.”

My breath caught.

“Why?”

“Because then I’m not David’s.”