I was just a grease-stained mechanic, happily working with my adoptive dad in rural Nevada, on the cusp of starting my engineering journey at MIT on a full scholarship.
Then, a sleek black Mercedes pulled up, and out stepped a woman claiming to be my biological mother, Eleanor Vance, revealing an 18-year-old hospital mix-up during a chaotic wildfire.
Suddenly, I was thrust into the opulent world of the Thorne family, where my biological father, Richard, and his entitled son, Ethan, made it abundantly clear I was an unwanted outsider, doling out belittling gifts and thinly veiled insults.