Abandoned by my husband and son at the World Cup

The tires of Alan's sedan crunched against the gravel of my driveway. He shifted the car into park but left the engine running.

"The men who took your bag didn't target you by chance," Alan said. He handed my phone across the center console.

I took the device, my fingers brushing his knuckles. "What do you mean?"

"I had my people interrogate them," he explained, his gaze fixed on the windshield. "They were paid to steal your specific purse. They had photos of you."

I stared at the dark screen of my phone. "Bastian wouldn't do that. He's cruel, but he wouldn't hire street thugs."

"Maybe not him," Alan replied. He turned his head, his dark eyes locking onto mine. "But someone in his circle."

"I need to hear him say it," I said. I opened the passenger door. "I need to look my husband in the eye."

"Call me when you're ready," Alan said.

I shut the door and walked toward the house.

Laughter and clinking glasses spilled into the foyer as I pushed the heavy oak door open. A silver banner hung across the archway: *Welcome Home, Champions.*

Dozens of guests filled my living room. Waiters carried trays of champagne. I stepped forward, my worn sneakers loud against the polished marble floor.

A massive corkboard dominated the center wall, pinned with glossy photos from Mexico City. I walked straight toward it.

Right in the middle sat an eight-by-ten print. Vivian, Bastian, and Ewan. Below their smiling faces, Ewan's messy handwriting spelled out a caption in black marker: *The best mom in the world, Vivian.*

My chest tightened.

"They really look like a perfect family, don't they?" a woman in a sequined dress whispered to her husband nearby.

"Bastian looks like a new man," the husband murmured, sipping his drink. "Vivian really brought him back to life."

I clenched my fists. The sheer audacity of it all temporarily paralyzed me.

I turned around. The music abruptly cut off.

Bastian stood by the wet bar, a scotch glass in hand. He stopped mid-laugh, his smile vanishing.

"Zelda," he said. His jaw clenched tight. "What are you doing here?"

"I live here," I answered.

He set his glass down hard on the granite counter. "You couldn't wait in a hotel? You had to barge in and ruin the mood?"

Ewan peeked out from behind the velvet sofa. He ran straight past me and buried his face in Vivian's silk skirt.

"Dad, I don't want her to come back," Ewan whined. He pointed a small finger at me. "Make her leave."

A heavy silence dropped over the room. The guests exchanged awkward glances.

Vivian stroked Ewan's hair. "It's okay, sweetie. I'll handle this."

She handed her champagne flute to a waiter and walked toward me. "Zelda, let's chat upstairs. Give them some space."

I let her guide me toward the second-floor landing, away from the staring guests.

"You actually made it back," Vivian sneered, dropping the sweet act the second we were alone.

"Did you pay those men in Mexico?" I asked.

"You think you won?" I asked, my voice steady despite the tremor in my hands.

"I know I did," Vivian replied. "You were just a placeholder, Zelda. A convenient nanny for his kid while I built my career. Now I'm back, and your services are no longer required."

"Bastian will see through this," I said.

Vivian laughed. A sharp, ugly sound. "See through what? He helped me plan it."

She pulled a phone from her clutch. She tapped the screen and held it up to my face. "Why don't you see for yourself?"

A video played. It was recorded from the dashboard camera of a town car. Bastian and Vivian sat in the back seat.

*“I gave the locals a thousand cash,”* Vivian’s voice played through the tiny speaker. *“They’ll grab her bag in the crowd. No passport, no money. She’ll be stuck in Mexico City for at least a week.”*

Bastian’s voice answered. *“Make sure they don’t hurt Ewan in the scuffle. Once she’s stranded, I’ll file the abandonment papers.”*

The video ended.

My stomach twisted into a hard knot. He knew. He approved it.

"He wanted you gone, Zelda," Vivian whispered. She pocketed the phone. "You're nothing but a stain on his perfect life."

"You're a monster," I said.

"No," Vivian smiled. "I'm the new Mrs. Falkner."

She stepped backward, planting her high heels right on the edge of the top stair.

"What are you doing?" I asked.

Vivian grabbed my wrist, forced my hand against her shoulder, and threw herself backward.

"Help!" she screamed.

She tumbled down the carpeted steps, a flurry of limbs and red silk, landing in a heap at the bottom.

Gasps echoed from the foyer. Glasses shattered against the floor.

Bastian sprinted past the guests. He dropped to his knees beside Vivian.

"Viv! Are you okay?" he yelled.

"She pushed me," Vivian sobbed. She clutched her ankle, tears streaming down her face. "Bastian, she just snapped."

I walked down the stairs, my legs feeling heavy. "She threw herself down. I didn't touch her."

Bastian stood up. He closed the distance between us in two strides.

His hand swung through the air.

The slap cracked against my cheek. My head snapped to the side. The metallic taste of blood flooded my mouth immediately.

"You psychotic bitch," Bastian snarled.

The guests muttered among themselves, their voices a toxic buzz in my ears.

"Call the police," someone suggested.

"Get her out of here," another voice added.

I touched my burning cheek. I didn't cry. I just stared at the man I had loved for ten years. His eyes held no remorse, no hesitation. Only disgust.

Ewan ran over, his face red with anger. He kicked my shin.

"You're a bad woman!" my son screamed. "I hate you! Dad, divorce her!"

Bastian picked Ewan up, holding him close. "I will, buddy. I promise."

He glared at me. "Get your things and get out. My lawyers will send you the papers tomorrow. Don't ever come near my son again."

I looked at the three of them. A united front. A perfect family.

All the late nights. The compromises. The sacrifices I made to build this home. It was all a joke.

"Fine," I said.

Bastian blinked, clearly caught off guard by my flat tone.

I turned my back on them and walked out the front door.

The sky had cracked open. Heavy rain slammed onto the pavement, soaking through my clothes in seconds.

I walked down the long driveway, the cold water washing the blood from my lip. The mansion's bright lights faded behind me.

I pulled my phone from my pocket. My thumb hovered over the contact list. I tapped the newest number.

It rang twice.

"Alan," I said. The rain roared around me, but my voice cut through the noise.

"I'm listening," his deep voice answered.

"You once said if I was willing, you could help me take back everything that belongs to me. Does that offer still stand?"

A low chuckle vibrated through the speaker. "Finally figured it out?"

I wiped the rain from my eyes. My vision cleared.

"I want them to regret it," I said.

"Then get ready, Zelda," Alan replied. "We have work to do."