Then her voice dropped. “So… when?”
“Soon. Once the custody stuff is in motion. You’ve already got them calling you ‘Mommy.’ That’s step one.”
She giggled. “God, I can’t wait until this house is ours.”
My stomach turned. Custody. Our house.
And then, the punch to the throat:
“Molly?” Tommy’s little voice.
“Yes, baby?”
“Can I call you Mommy now?”
He wasn’t confused. He was rehearsed.
They weren’t just cheating. They were building a future without me – using my children as props.
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