Her eyes widened in recognition. “Josh?” she whispered, and in that moment, everything fell into place.
My mother explained that after her recovery, she’d learned my father had drained their savings and lied to gain full custody of me. He’d left her with nothing. Despite her best efforts, she couldn’t find me, but she never stopped looking.
“I never gave up on you, Josh,” she cried.
My heart broke as I told her about the torment I had endured. “I thought you were dead,” I said. “Dad told me you were gone.”
Together, we rebuilt our lives. I changed my last name to Fraser, reclaiming the identity my father had stolen from me. My mother returned to her career, and I finished school while working part-time.
This experience taught me that truth always comes to light, no matter how deeply it’s buried. Family is defined by love, trust, and loyalty, not blood alone. My mother and I, torn apart by lies, found our way back to each other—and that was all that mattered.