Three days after I gave birth to twins, my husband showed up with his mistress and divorce papers. “Take $3 million and sign it. I only want the kids.” I signed… and disappeared that night. By morning, he realized something was terribly wrong.

My face was a swollen, greasy disaster of smeared mascara and pure exhaustion. I looked like hell, and somehow, that realization gave me a strange sense of freedom. I had no energy left for pretense.

“I have no idea what I am doing,” I confessed, my voice a ragged whisper.

“Yes, you do,” Janet countered fiercely. “You are protecting your girls.”

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