The Cellist Who Refused Forgiveness

The day I was accepted into Juilliard as their top-ranked cellist, the Donald family finally claimed me as their own.

My biological mother, Beatrice, held me in a weeping embrace, whispering promises that all those years of neglect would be made up to me. My father, Richard, bought me a brand-new Maserati and enrolled me in the city’s most exclusive driving academy, promising he would personally drive me to campus on my first day of classes.

But the night before my final road test, Damian—their precious, adopted golden boy—took my Maserati for a joyride.