My Husband Chose His Ex’s Kids Over Me and Ours

Zara's POV

After hanging up the phone, I finally pulled myself together.

I pushed myself slowly off the floor, steadying myself, and began cleaning the mess. Caden was still crying.

When I looked into his soft and innocent eyes, I couldn't help but think of Katie when she was little. She had that same sweetness, that same quiet nature.

For the next three days, there wasn't a single word from Trevor.

Instead, Brianna flooded my inbox with private messages.

Photo after photo of her and Trevor—landscapes, couple selfies, beachfront shots—each one practically dripping with smug provocation.

The background was unmistakable: Bali.

I remembered how I once suggested going there for our honeymoon. Trevor shut it down immediately, saying it was too far, too 'touristy,' and just a waste of time.

But now? One word from Brianna, and he was on the next flight out.

I ignored the messages. My mind was fixed on just one thing: leaving this house for good.

While they were gone, I was left alone to care for Nicole and Caden.

The kids were young and cute, sure—but Nicole, clearly coached by her mother, treated me with thinly veiled contempt.

Even so, I didn't resent them. I took care of them seriously, doing everything I could to keep things calm and under control.

Then, one day, while I was cooking, Nicole came up behind me and gave me a deliberate shove.

Hot oil splashed from the pan, landing right on my still-healing arm. I screamed in pain as angry red blisters bubbled to the surface.

Nicole just smirked. "Bad woman! Don't steal Daddy from Mommy!"

Then she ran off, giggling.

Those three days were pure hell.

Finally, on the last night, when the house was quiet and the kids were asleep, I started packing. I combed through the rooms again, one last time—every drawer, every corner—searching for anything that might help me understand what happened to Katie.

And I found it.

On Brianna's vanity, tucked among her perfumes and jewelry, was something small and familiar.

Katie's badge.

A delicate, custom-made name badge—the one both families designed and gifted to Katie when she turned one month old. It was small, polished, almost like jewelry. On the back, engraved in tiny letters, was Katie's name.

There was no way this was a coincidence.

I slipped it quietly into my pocket, rage simmering in my chest.

That night, as if on cue, Brianna sent another photo.

This one was taken in bed—her in Trevor's arms, surrounded by crumpled clothes and half-empty wine bottles.

Brianna wrote: [Trevor and I are a perfect match. He said you're boring.]

She ended it with a smug little smiley face.

My fingers clenched around the phone.

Brianna's constant needling had worn my patience to the bone.

Later that evening, Nicole 'accidentally' dropped her heavy doll from the upstairs landing, walloping me on the head. I staggered and cried out, clutching my skull.

Only then did she finally stop causing trouble.

...

The next morning, Trevor finally returned.

Nicole was in the garden, insisting on planting the wildflowers she had picked. She lost her balance and fell forward, landing forehead-first on a hoe. Her face turned red from the impact. She clenched her teeth, trying not to cry, but she was clearly shaken.

Just then, Trevor and Brianna stepped out of the car.

Nicole saw them and burst into tears, running straight into their arms.

"Daddy! Mommy! While you were gone, this auntie bullied me! She didn't take care of Caden when he cried! I don't like her! Kick her out!"

She buried her face into Brianna's chest.

Trevor shot me an icy, hard look. "I told you already. These two kids are yours, too. Why are you so petty, fighting with children?"

He rolled his eyes.

I said nothing and just rolled up my sleeve, showing him the burns from Nicole's stunt with the hot oil.

For a second, Nicole looked guilty.

But Trevor didn't falter. "She's a kid, and you're not exactly acting like an adult. You get burned cooking, and now you're blaming her?"

His voice was cold and dismissive.

Sensing the tension, Brianna stepped in like some benevolent peacekeeper.

Her act only deepened the insult.

I reached into my pocket and pulled out the badge.

The air shifted instantly.

"Care to explain?" I asked, locking eyes with her.

Suddenly, both of them fell silent.

Brianna blinked quickly, then put on her best pitiful expression.

"It was a gift from Trevor. I didn't know it belonged to Katie." Her voice trembled just enough to seem innocent.

Her pathetic act made my skin crawl. Right then, I lunged forward and shoved her hard.

"Where did you get it? Tell me the truth!"

She stumbled and dramatically fell to her knees. Seeing her weak and tearful, Trevor bought it. He stormed over and yanked me back, fury burning in his eyes.

Then he slapped me hard.

"Enough! That badge was mine. I gave it to Brianna. It just happens to look like Katie's."

I stared at him, stunned.

That lie rolled off his tongue so easily that I almost believed it.

I let out a hollow laugh. "Really, Trevor? You'll go all the way out to protect your mistress?"

Trevor's face twisted in anger.

"You hurt the kids, and now you're turning against us, Zara? You'd better apologize. If not, you won't be eating today. Or tomorrow."

Then he helped Brianna and Nicole into the house as if nothing had happened.

One of his assistants dragged me into a cold, dim storage room and locked the door.

I sat in the dark, clutching the badge with trembling fingers, sobbing quietly.

I didn't feel like I'd done anything wrong.

However, I wasn't allowed to eat for two or maybe three days. But hell, how would I even know? I lost track of time. My head was light, my body weak. I felt like I was disappearing.

Eventually, I picked up the phone.

I called that familiar number.

"Come get me. Tomorrow."

There was no hesitation.

"I'll be there."

That night, under the cover of darkness, I slipped out.

Through the cracked door, I got one last glimpse of Trevor and Brianna—curled up on the couch, laughing softly, completely relaxed. The sight made my stomach turn.

I erased my fingerprint and passcode from the front door.

Then I climbed into the car I'd arranged days ago.

Not long after, Brianna grew hungry in Trevor's arms and called out to him. He shouted upstairs for me to get up and make her a late-night snack.

When there was no reply, he called my phone, but it went unanswered.

Half an hour earlier, I'd already quit the Gibson family group chat and blocked every one of their numbers.

This time, I didn't just walk away.

I left without looking back.