“I’m not sure, but I think you should take this.” He hands it over to Trace. “From first glance, it looks like your birth certificate.”
Trace reaches for it. “I wondered where it was.” The color drains from his face when he reads the document. He pushes back in his chair.
Ryan hands him a newspaper clipping. “I believe this goes with the certificate.”
Trace reads it and looks away, and—rubbing his head—he exhales slowly. “I didn’t expect this.”
“What’s going on?” Lisa leans forward.
Trace’s voice cracks when he answers. “Dad wasn’t my biological father. My birth father died in a car accident when I was two. Jose Rivera—a landscaper. I was his only child.” He looks down. “I-I don’t know what to say.”
Lisa reaches for the document and scrutinizes the content. “When Mom gets better, you
