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The midm morning sun streamed through
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the blinds of my office, illuminating
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the dust moes dancing in the air. I was
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at my desk, a mug of coffee in hand,
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contemplating a copyright issue that,
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like so many matters involving the
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federal government, was mired in a
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molasses-like bureaucratic incompetence.
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My assistant, Jackie, had brought the
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coffee, and despite her insistence on
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using artificial sweeteners, I found
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myself thinking about her more than the
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The federal government, a monument to
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inaction, was slow, unhelpful, and I
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suspected intentionally obtuse.
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I felt a financial loss looming, a
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consequence of the new liberal concerns
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and the endless red tape that seemed to
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tie everything in knots. At 42, I felt
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too old for this nonsense. I yearned for
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the days when a man could get a straight
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answer and a job title didn't have to be
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politically correct. "Jackie, a woman
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whose professional demeanor was as sharp
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as her wit, entered my office without
1:02
knocking." "There's a young lady here to
1:04
see you," she said, her tone a little
1:07
off. "She wouldn't give me her name, but
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She placed a photograph on my desk, her
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emerald eyes watching my reaction. I
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picked it up and a cold wave of dread
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washed over me. It was a picture of a
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younger me and my ex-wife Sharon on our
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It was a ghost from a past life, a
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memory I had long buried under layers of
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success and solitude. The pain of the
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cheating, the lies, the tears, it all
1:37
came rushing back. I was a different man
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now. Back then, I was an FBI agent, a
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pawn in a game I didn't understand.
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Now, I was Paul Carlson, a successful
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corporate financial adviser and a
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surprisingly popular author of a book
1:53
series. I had built a new life, a
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fortress of steel and glass. And here
1:59
was a tiny crack in the wall. "Ask her
2:01
if she's Susan or Sandra Press," I said,
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handing Jackie a USB drive in a Ziploc
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bag. "If she is, show her the video on
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this. If she wants a copy, give her
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everything. Bring the original back to
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me. Jackie, ever efficient, returned an
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hour later. She has a lot of questions,
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she said, her voice softer than usual.
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She's still reeling. I knew it. The
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video on that stick was Sharon's last
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words to me before our first divorce
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hearing. It was a confession, a lie she
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had told to manipulate me, and a threat.
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She had told me I was not the father of
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her twins who were born 7 months later
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and that her father, a powerful man with
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deep ties to the CIA, had a contract on
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my life if I ever interfered.
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He had gotten me fired from the FBI with
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I had accepted it then, believing her to
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be with my former best friend and now
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husband, Arnold. They had conspired to
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destroy me, and they had succeeded. I
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had licked my wounds and rebuilt my
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life, embracing bachelorhood and a
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short, unhappy marriage that had left me
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with no room for trust. "She's Sandra,"
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Jackie said, her eyes fixed on mine.
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"And she cried. She said they've been
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lied to their whole lives. She thinks
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you've been lied to as well." My heart
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hammered against my ribs. Why would she
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think that? She found an old photo in
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the attic with your name on it, Googled
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you, and recognized you.
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She found your marriage certificate and
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divorce papers. She tracked you down
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through social media.
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But why? Why now? She came to find a
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bone marrow match for her twin sister,
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Susan, who was running out of time. She
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convinced the doctors to run a DNA test.
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And Mr. Press isn't their biological
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father. I sat in stunned silence.
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Jackie, her face now a mix of pride and
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fierce protectiveness, smiled a wide,
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I knew she was related to you the moment
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I saw her. She has a look about her. I
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was a father. A father of twin daughters
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I never knew existed. The realization
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hit me with the force of a title wave.
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Jack, I said, my voice barely a whisper.
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Send the information on the stick to my
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I want it released in a way that can't
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be traced back to me, but I need it
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Then find a place for a fast DNA test. I
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want proof before I confront Sharon. If
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it's true, I need a litigation lawyer.
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Clear my schedule. I need to go to
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Susan's hospital. Now, before I could
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get up, Jackie called out. Sandra, come
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in and introduce yourself. The moment
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she walked in, I knew she was the
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spitting image of my younger sister,
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Barbara, at 16. The same long brunette
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hair, the high cheekbones, the light
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blue eyes, the warm smile. I choked up.
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A man who had not cried in 18 years, and
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Sandra and I both started to sob.
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Jackie, ever the pragmatist, snapped a
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few pictures on her phone.
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Sandra, you and Paul have a blood test
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at 1:00. I've arranged for a rush job. I
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also reserved a private table at cells
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at 3. You'll be meeting your aunt
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Barbara. She knows you have important
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family news. Sandra, trembling, walked
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toward me. I wrapped her in a fierce
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hug, a father's embrace she had never
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known. "Can I call you dad?" she asked.
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"I'd love that," I said, and the words
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felt like a promise. The Carlson family
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arrives at Cells. A private booth
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awaited us. Barbara's car was already in
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the parking lot. She looked up as I
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approached, a happy, relaxed smile on
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her face. "Hi, sis. Thanks for meeting
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me." "You look happy," she said. "What's
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going on? Barbara, stand up. There's
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someone I want you to meet. Sandra, her
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hand in mind, stepped forward. This is
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Sharon's daughter, Sandra Press.
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Barbara's jaw dropped. She looked from
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me to Sandra, a mirror image of herself,
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Oh my god, she gasped, tears welling in
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Paul, you should have warned me. This is
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How long have you known? She asked
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Sandra. About 5 hours. I surprised him
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at his office. "The resemblance is
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uncanny," Barbara said, still in shock.
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The server, seeing our tears, brought a
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box of tissues without being asked.
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Barbara then explained that our parents
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and her husband would be joining us. I
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got a text from Jackie. The publisher
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had released the information, and it
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would be on the 6:00 news. Just as we
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had settled down with a glass of
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champagne, my parents and Barbara's
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husband, Lou, arrived.
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My dad, a man of booming voice and a
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laugh that could fill a stadium, was
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uncharacteristically quiet. He was a
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proud man, a patriarch of our large,
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boisterous family. He took one look at
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Sandra, and his face went from stunned
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to speechless. My mom, a woman of warmth
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and endless love, simply sat beside
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Sandra and held her hand, too emotional
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to speak. After our glasses were
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refilled, I stood up. I need to explain,
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I said as Sandra started recording on
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her phone. I recounted the story of how
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we met, of the DNA test and the reason
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for Sandra's quest. When I finished, my
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dad, tears in his eyes, stood up.
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Sandra, he said, his voice thick with
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We don't need a DNA test. Welcome to our
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family. You have two more ants to meet
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soon. Promise us you'll always consider
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this family your home. Sandra, in a
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voice filled with emotion, recorded her
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own message. I came here seeking the
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truth and never knowing what I'd find.
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Today has changed everything for Dad and
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me. I want to change my last name to
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I never knew families like this existed.
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My phone rang. It was Susan. I stepped
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away to take the call.
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Hello, this is Susan. After seeing the
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video, I had to call, she said, her
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voice filled with a desperate hope. She
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told me she had seen the tour bus, the
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It's given me a new hope I never
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imagined. I met so many relatives this
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morning. It will take multiple
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introductions to remember their names. I
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felt a surge of pride and love, a
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feeling that had been dormant for too
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long. "I'll say it again, Susan," I
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said, a chuckle in my voice. In the
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Carlson family, blood is thicker than
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water. You'll see the confrontation and
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a new beginning. The next morning, I was
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back in my office, a sense of purpose
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driving me forward. Jackie, my
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overprotective sidekick, was already
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there. She was a single mother of two, a
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woman I had supported through her own
9:00
painful divorce, and a person I had come
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to depend on more than I cared to admit.
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As a single man, I had often admired
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her. But my past had built a wall around
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Now with my daughters in my life, that
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wall was beginning to crumble.
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It's confirmed, she said, her face
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lighting up as she printed the DNA test
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results. You are their father. She
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immediately called the lab, sent the
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information to Susan's doctor, and began
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searching for the toughest litigation
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She found the best, and they agreed to
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work on a percentage basis, confident in
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We would go after Sharon, Arnold, and
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her parents for denying me my parental
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rights and conspiring to ruin my life. I
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sent my lawyer a gray dust-covered box
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from my safe, a collection of legal
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evidence I had amassed over the years, a
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testament to the lies I had lived with.
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The media, now a frenzy of speculation,
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had picked up the story of a runaway
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daughter finding her biological dad to
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save her sister's life.
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The family, my family, had arrived. A
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convoy of 141 cars and a tour bus, all
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ready to stand by Susan and find a bone
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marrow match. We were a tribe on a
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mission. My phone rang. It was Sandra.
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Dad, are you okay? She asked, a note of
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concern in her voice. I saw you get very
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emotional. How do you expect me to feel?
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I replied, my voice thick with pride and
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love. I discovered I have two daughters
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I never knew existed. One of whom is so
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strong and independent she moved
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mountains to find me and she wants to
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take my name. You've given me a chance
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to be a real dad. As we arrived at the
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hospital, I was placed under police
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protection. I met with a detective and
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an FBI agent providing my lawyer's
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contact information and the USB stick of
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evidence. I was going to be tested for a
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bone marrow match. And as I walked
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toward Susan's room, a sense of destiny
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Dad," Sandra said, her eyes shining with
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pride as I entered the room. "This is
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our dad, Paul Carlson."
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Susan, frail but her eyes bright with a
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new hope, smiled. "Susan, they're
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rushing the test. My parents are having
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their bone marrow drawn now. If there's
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more than one match, the doctor plans to
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do a double transplant." The doctor
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entered the room, a wide smile on his
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Mr. Carlson and his mother are perfect
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He explained that a court order secured
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by my lawyer allowed them to proceed. My
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dad, ever the patriarch, whispered,
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"Thank God. We prayed for a miracle."
11:47
The news broke on CNN. My identity as
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Jason Blackstone, the author of a
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popular book series worth $40 million,
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was revealed. My parents, my daughters,
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even the doctor, were stunned. Sharon
12:00
and Arnold arrived, their faces pale,
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their composure shattered.
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Sharon's life, a carefully constructed
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house of cards, was crumbling around
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her. "Mom, my bioad and his mother are
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perfect matches," Susan said, a note of
12:15
triumph in her voice. "Both are donating
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so I can get a double dose and recover
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fully." "Do you know who Jason
12:22
Blackstone is?" "He's your favorite
12:26
Well, Jason Blackstone is my dad. The
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final blow came when a man handed Sharon
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You have been served. Later, in my
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hospital room, Jackie found me. "I'm
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here to do what I always do," she said.
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Her eyes, those beautiful emerald eyes
12:44
soft with concern. "Look after you."
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"What is your relationship with Mr.
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Carlson?" the security guard asked. "I'm
12:52
his fiance," Jackie replied. and Sandra,
12:55
who had been in the room, winked at me.
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I looked at Jackie, truly looked at her
13:00
for the first time. I had been living in
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others shadows, finding joy in their
13:05
excitement, but not my own. Sharon's
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cheating, her father's power, my best
13:10
friend's betrayal. It had all put me in
13:13
protection mode. But now, with my
13:16
daughters, with this new life, I was
13:18
ready to live again.
13:21
Jackie, I said, taking her hand. These
13:24
last few days have awakened me. I've
13:26
been complacent, settling for the
13:28
sidelines instead of being in the game.
13:30
Can we go on our first actual date, or
13:33
is it too late for us? Took you long
13:35
enough, you old fool, she said. And then
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she kissed me. A kiss that felt like a
13:41
promise of a new life, a new beginning,
13:43
and a future I was finally ready to