Five minutes after signing the divorce papers, my ex-husband called his pregnant mistress and said, “Your son will carry our family name.”

I didn’t need to open it.

I already knew.

But I did anyway.

“Confirmed. Not his child. The whole family is imploding.”

I stared at the screen for a long moment.

Then slowly…

I locked my phone.

My daughter shifted slightly against me, still asleep.

My son squeezed my hand again.

“Mom… are we really leaving?” he asked softly.

I kissed the top of his head.

“Yes, baby.”

“For good?”

I looked out the window as the city faded behind us.

At the life I was leaving.