He didn’t answer me immediately. My father was, for one of the first times that I had ever seen him, at a loss for words. I didn’t blame him though. Not for that at least. I had never exactly been the child that he had been proud of, and he had killed the other one. But here I was, stepping out of one of the most expensive cars in existence, chauffeured, no less, and wearing what was definitely not my typical Walmart hand-me-downs.

I knew that I looked the picture of ...