The day started like any other—until I pulled into the driveway and saw my children sitting on the front steps with their suitcases beside them.
There was no trip planned. No reason they should be waiting like that. A sinking feeling hit me as I rushed out of the car.
“What’s going on?” I asked, doing my best to sound calm.
Jake, my ten-year-old, looked at me with confusion. “You told us to,” he said softly.
“Told you what?”
“You texted us,” he explained. “You said to pack our things and wait for Dad. That he was coming to get us.”
My heart dropped. “I didn’t send any message. Let me see your phone.”
I scanned the screen, and panic gripped me. The message claimed to be from me—telling them to take some money I’d supposedly left and wait for their father. But I had never written that.
Then I heard a car behind me. I turned around slowly—and there he was. Lewis, my ex-husband.
Continue reading on next page…