Chapter 1

The night after our twins, Emerson and Emma, finished their last eighth-grade final, the mood should have been celebratory. Camilo Brady, my husband, and I were tossing around ideas for a well-deserved vacation to help them unwind.

Then, out of the blue, he looked me dead in the eye. "Let's get a divorce," he said solemnly. "I'll take the kids. We split the assets down the middle."

The words knocked the wind out of me. I felt my jaw go slack, my mouth opening and closing, but no sound came out.

A knot of pure acid formed in my chest, the burn quickly rising to my eyes.

Just as the first tear broke free and traced a hot path down my cheek, the front door opened, and Emerson and Emma walked in.

They took in the scene with a chillingly calm composure, as if they had been expecting this very moment.

Emma came and sat beside me, her hand silently enveloping mine in a firm grip.

Emerson stepped between us and his father. His face was a stone mask. "Fine," he said coldly. "Get the divorce. But we're staying with Mom. You'll pay child support for both of us. And she gets seventy-five percent of the marital assets."

*****

My husband, Camilo Brady, called our children into his study.

The fog of grief that had settled over me parted just enough for me to scramble after them.

But before I could take a single step, I heard Camilo's impatient voice, sharp and muffled through the heavy oak door.

"Emerson Brady! Emma Brady! Let me be crystal clear: Susan Shaw is a stay-at-home mom. She's useless. She can't help you with anything important!"

Emerson calmly replied, "We have teachers for school. We can take care of ourselves. And when we graduate, we'll have our own degrees. We don't need anyone's help."

Then Emma spoke, her tone as sweet and gentle as ever.

"But Dad, we're worried. That assistant of yours, I mean, she's really pregnant. It wouldn't be good for her to have two extra teenagers around while she's trying to rest up for the baby."

The words hung in the air. My own daughter casually referenced his affair and his unborn child. The sting of it was so public that even his bluster faltered.

His angry tone dropped to a resentful mutter.

I stood frozen outside the door with a sharp pain in my chest that echoed in my ears, a high-pitched ringing that drowned out everything else. I couldn't make out another word they said.

By the time the study door swung open again, my face was streaked with tears.

Camilo stepped out, and his eyes flickered when he saw the state I was in.

He lowered his voice, a sad attempt at compassion. "Look, I know I'm the one who messed up. You can have custody of Emerson and Emma.

"You can have seventy-five percent of the marital assets, too. But the company shares we own together will be split fifty-fifty."

I sniffled, trying to force the lump in my throat down.

My mind screamed at me that this was the best deal I was going to get. This was a victory.

But the overwhelming sense of betrayal left me speechless.

"Just cash out her shares," Emerson said suddenly, his voice cutting through my haze. "Mom doesn't know the first thing about running a company. They're useless to her unless they're liquid."

Emma echoed, "Exactly. And we're all family here, right? It's better to sell them to you, Dad, than to some stranger. If you have more shares, you'll have more power in the company.

"Think about it. When the company goes public, their value will skyrocket in your hands."

I stared at my children, baffled.

Shares weren't just money. They were power, a seat at the table I had helped build.

By selling them to Camilo, they were helping him solidify his control, handing him the keys to the kingdom he had built on the ruins of our marriage.

They had chosen me, but blood is blood. In the end, a part of them would always belong to him.

Even Camilo looked stunned that two kids, barely out of middle school, could be so shrewd.

Emerson and Emma put on their best "perfect children" smiles, asking, "Would that be okay with you, Dad?"

He finally tore his gaze away from them with a reluctant nod. "Fine. It's a deal. Let's meet at the courthouse tomorrow at 8:30," he demanded.

Camilo walked away without a second glance. He couldn't stand to be in the same room with me for a second longer.

I thought about us and all those years we had been a team, starting with nothing and building an empire.

I had always believed that after the storm came the rainbow.

I had pictured us old and gray, surrounded by our beautiful children, living a quiet life filled with love.

I never imagined that while I was dreaming, he had already moved on, had cheated, and had gotten another woman pregnant.

I felt like an absolute fool, the star of a fantasy I had written, directed, and produced all by myself.

Now, with my eyes finally open, I saw that I was standing at the edge of a cliff, and the ground was crumbling beneath my feet.

I dug my nails into my palms, the sharp sting a welcome anchor to reality.

It was the only thing that kept me from screaming his name to beg him to stay.

"Mom, I'm hungry."

Just as I felt the grief threatening to swallow me whole, Emma wrapped her arms around my waist, letting out a playful whine. "The exams were brutal. I need a massive feast to recover."

Emerson echoed, "Yeah, Mom. I'm starving."

Seeing them so unaffected, so normal, was a balm to my shattered heart.

I wiped my eyes and took their hands, asking, "What do you want to eat? I'll make you anything."

Emerson gently pulled me back with a pout on his face. "Mom. You're about to be a multi-millionaire from the divorce settlement and the share buyout. Can't you just take us out for once?" he said.

An embarrassed laugh escaped me.

It was true. For years, I had been the sole architect of their diets, meticulously planning every meal for their health.

They loved my cooking, and sometimes I'd make extra for them to share with their friends, a gaggle of kids who had all taken to calling me "Mom."

I thought back to those days. They were exhausting, sure, but I was so happy. It all felt like a lifetime ago now. Everything changed.

But for my children, I would find a way to be strong. I had to.