I’d never thought of it that way, but he had a point. Our mother had spent our childhood working, partying, and dating increasingly rich but dubious men. I was the result of a one-night stand with someone she’d been too drunk to remember; Marcelo was the son of a married Brazilian businessman who’d threatened our mother with bodily harm if she ever told people about their affair. We were half-siblings, but despite being born only two years apart, I’d acted more like his mother than his sister until we were both adults.
