As I pulled into the driveway, my heart sank. Jake and Emily sat on the porch with their suitcases, confusion and fear written on their faces. There was no trip planned. Panic surged in my chest.
I rushed out of the car, slamming the door. “What’s going on?” I called, hurrying toward them.
Jake, only ten, looked up, uncertainty in his eyes. “You told us to pack,” he said quietly.
“I did what?” My voice trembled as I knelt in front of them. “Why would I tell you to pack and wait out here?”
Jake glanced at his younger sister, Emily, clutching her stuffed rabbit. “You texted us,” he said, pulling out his phone. “You said Dad was coming to get us.”
My stomach dropped. I grabbed the phone and scrolled through the messages. There it was: “This is your mom. Pack your stuff, take the cash I left, and wait for Dad. He’ll be there soon.”
The words blurred as my blood ran cold. I hadn’t sent that text. Nausea surged through me.
“Mom?” Emily’s voice was soft. Her big blue eyes filled with tears. “Are we going with Dad?”
“No, sweetheart,” I said firmly, though my voice wavered. “You’re not going anywhere.”
Before I could process what was happening, the crunch of tires on gravel reached my ears. I turned toward the driveway, and my heart sank further.
It was Lewis—my ex-husband.
“Kids,” I said urgently, my voice sharp, “go inside. Now.”
They hesitated, fear in their eyes, but obeyed, dragging their bags into the house. I stood my ground as Lewis got out of the car, a smug smile on his face.
“Leaving the kids alone like this?” he sneered, crossing his arms. “Really stellar parenting.”
“Don’t you dare,” I snapped, stepping closer, my body shaking with anger. “What did you think you were doing, sending that text to manipulate them? You lost custody for a reason, and you have no right to be here.”
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