“Because Mommy has some old friends she needs to see,” I said. “And I want you to see where I used to live.”
“Did you like it there?” Ethan asked.
“No,” I said honestly. “But I like who I became after I left.”
The flight to New York was surreal.
My children pressed their faces against the windows, watching the country pass below.
I had booked a private jet, something I could have never imagined when I left this city five years ago with a suitcase and a broken heart.
Now I owned the jet.
We landed at a private terminal. A car was waiting, sleek and black.
The children were excited, chattering about the tall buildings and the noise.
I was calm.
I had played this moment in my head a thousand times.
Walking back into the world that rejected me.
Showing them exactly what they had lost.
We checked into a suite at the Four Seasons, not the Plaza.
I did not want to be anywhere near the wedding venue until the moment I chose.
That night, I put the children to bed early and stood at the window, looking out over Central Park.
Somewhere in this city, Julian Sterling was preparing for his wedding.
Somewhere in this city, Arthur Sterling was celebrating the marriage he had always wanted for his son.