During my graduation, my dad made a public announcement: “you’re not truly my son.” as the room went quiet, i took the mic and said, “well, since we’re exchanging family surprises…” then i held up an envelope. my stepmom’s reaction spoke louder than words.

David Richardson’s words echoed through the crowded Westfield High School gymnasium like a cannon shot. Four hundred people—classmates, families, teachers—fell silent. Even the baby crying in the third row stopped.

I stood halfway to the stage, my name still ringing from the speakers after being called up to receive my diploma. Instead of applause, I received the most devastating public humiliation of my life. My name is Blake, and at eighteen years old, I had just been disowned by my adoptive father in front of the entire community.