Chapter 2

Cole stopped in his tracks, turning around with a frown etched on his face. "Are you seriously throwing a fit because I missed the birthday party? Grow up, Vivian."

I shook my head slightly. "You think that's what this is about?"

Fragments of the past shattered in my mind like broken glass—

Seven months pregnant, sitting alone on the cold plastic chair in the OB-GYN waiting room, surrounded by couples holding hands. Cole's voice on the phone: "Babe, I can't make it. Lena's anxiety is flaring up again. I have to take her to her therapist."

Lucas's first high fever, hitting 104 degrees. I sat in the ER for three hours with a burning toddler in my arms. Cole's text: "At the airport. Lena has to settle her mom's estate in Boston. I'm flying her out. Back tomorrow."

I never said a word. I mistook endurance for love. I thought swallowing my pain was what maturity looked like.

But that kiss he planted on Lena's forehead just now—so open, so devoid of guilt—was the wake-up call that hit harder than a slap in the face.

"I'm taking Lena home." Cole grabbed his car keys, his tone dripping with impatience. "Stop causing drama, Vivian."

I watched him guide her toward the door, his hand protective on her back. Just before they left, Lena glanced over her shoulder. Her eyes were red, technically, but the corner of her mouth quirked up in a barely perceptible, victorious smirk.

He didn't take my warning seriously. I wasn't surprised.

He assumes I'm just venting. But when the divorce papers and the asset division agreement hit his mahogany desk, he'll realize my silence wasn't submission—it was a notification.

The next morning, I was prepping lunch when the doorbell rang.

I opened it to find Lena standing there, gripping a suitcase handle, her eyes swollen.

"Vivian... I'm so sorry..." She choked back a sob. "I'm just... really struggling. Being alone in that apartment... I was so scared..."

Before I could even process the audacity, Cole strode past me and dragged her luggage inside. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? I would have picked you up."

I threw my arm out, blocking the entryway. "She is not coming in."

Cole froze, a look of genuine disbelief flashing across his face. "What? Vivian, what is wrong with you?"

"I said," I articulated every syllable, "she is not setting foot in this house."

Lena bit her lip, tears falling on cue. "Vivian... I know you don't like me... but I really have nowhere else to go..."

"Boston is full of five-star hotels," I said, ignoring her and staring dead at Cole. "If you let her stay here, there is no coming back from this. We are done."

Cole's face darkened instantly. "How can you be so heartless? Hasn't she suffered enough? Her parents divorced when she was a kid, and now she's all alone—"

"Not my problem. She walks in, our marriage ends."

Cole paused for a second, then let out a cold laugh. "You think I'm scared of your little threats? Fine. You want to leave? Go ahead."

He grabbed Lena's hand and pulled her past me into the foyer.

"Lena, don't worry. I'm here." His voice dropped to a gentle register I barely recognized. "You stay as long as you need."

Just then, Lucas ran down the stairs. His eyes lit up the second he saw her.

"Auntie Lena!"

Lena immediately crouched down, burying her face in Lucas's small neck, her voice trembling just enough for everyone to hear. "Lucas... only you don't hate Auntie... and I'm so scared..."

He threw himself into her arms.

"Don't cry, Auntie! You're the most beautiful, best woman in the world!"

"Whoever doesn't want you is stupid!"

"I love you the most," Lucas looked up at her, his face deadly serious. "You're more like a mommy than Mommy is."

"I want to be with you forever!"

In that moment, it felt like someone had dumped a bucket of ice water over my head. The chill went straight to the bone.

Lena hugged Lucas tighter, her tears flowing harder now. "Your mom doesn't want me here... I should just go..."

"No! Don't go!" Lucas spun around and shoved me hard. "Bad Mommy! Why won't you let Auntie stay? You're a bad person!"

Cole stood there. He didn't stop him. He didn't even frown.

He just bent down and scooped Lucas up. "Buddy, relax. Auntie Lena is staying."

Then he looked at the weeping Lena. "Make yourself at home. This is my house, and I make the rules."

I looked at the tableau before me—my husband standing guard, my son clinging to another woman. They looked so harmonious. It was as if I were the intruder, the ungrateful trespasser in their happy family.

I didn't say another word. I turned around and walked upstairs to pack.

Cole frowned, looking like he wanted to follow me to explain, but Lena grabbed his arm. "Cole, give her some space to calm down."

Suitcase packed, I walked toward the master bath but stopped dead when I heard voices drifting through the door.

"Cole... I need to shower. Keep me company?" Lena's voice was coy, dripping with intimate sweetness.

"That's not a good idea... Vivian is still here," Cole sounded hesitant, but weak.

"So?" Lena giggled softly. "It's not like you haven't seen it all before. I'm wearing that black lace today. Or... do you not want to see?"

There was a rustle of fabric, followed by a heavy, suppressed groan.

Then, I heard the words that froze the blood in my veins.

"Besides, Lucas has our blood running through him. As for Vivian... the poor pathetic thing still doesn't know her baby died at birth."

"Lena, don't bring that up."

"Why not? It's your tenderness for me. You can't bear to see me struggle with the child, so you've entrusted our son to her care, wanting to shield me from the burdens of motherhood."

"Even his name... Lucas is my dad's middle name. Cole, watching her raise our son for us... doesn't it make this all... exciting?"

The shirt in my hand slipped to the floor.

My entire world collapsed into a high-pitched ringing in my ears. I couldn't breathe.

It wasn't just a betrayal of marriage. It was the butchering of my soul.

The son I had raised for seven years, the boy I treasured more than my own life—he was a lie.

My motherly love, my sacrifices, even my own dead child... in their eyes, we were just props in their sick, twisted game of house.

I clamped my hand over my mouth as the tears finally, silently, broke free.