I remembered signing those papers with hands that shook, not from fear, but from the effort of holding back rage.
No. This was not just revenge.
This was justice.
I ordered breakfast for the children and laid out their outfits.
Matching navy suits for the boys, tailored perfectly to their small frames.
A navy dress for Sophia, simple and elegant, with her hair pulled back in a style that made her look older than five.
They looked like they belonged in a boardroom.
They looked like Sterlings, whether the Sterlings wanted to admit it or not.
“Where are we going, Mama?” Oliver asked, his mouth full of pancake.
“To a party,” I said.
“Will there be cake?” Lucas asked, always practical.
“Almost certainly,” I said. “But we are not going for the cake.”
Sophia looked at me with those sharp green eyes, so much like her father’s.
“Are we going to meet someone important?” she asked.
Smart girl.
“Yes,” I said. “We are going to meet some people who used to know Mommy a long time ago.”
“Will they be nice?” Ethan asked.
“Probably not,” I said honestly. “But that does not matter. We are not going to be nice either.”
The children giggled at that, thinking it was a joke.
It was not.
I dressed carefully, taking my time.