Five minutes after our divorce became final, my husband looked me in the eyes and said, “Take the girls, Lena. I have a son coming now.” He thought he was leaving behind an ordinary wife and two daughters he no longer needed—but by that afternoon, he would discover I was a U.S. Army colonel, and the “heir” his entire family was celebrating might not even be his. – usnews

“Oh, for God’s sake.”

My hand tightened around the phone.

“Put my mother on speaker,” Preston said.

“You’re already on speaker at your end.”

“Lena,” Vivian snapped, “children hear things incorrectly all the time.”

“Madeline heard him say he didn’t care where they lived as long as the baby could have the nursery.”

“That was obviously taken out of context.”

“What context improves it?”

“You’re being vindictive.”

“No. I’m boarding a plane.”

“Those girls are Hales.”

“They’re Hartwell-Hale legally until the court says otherwise.”

“They belong with their father’s family.”

I laughed.

I couldn’t help it.

Vivian’s voice sharpened.

“What is so amusing?”

“At breakfast yesterday, you posted a picture online calling Brielle’s baby the future of the Hale family.”

Nothing.

“You didn’t mention Madeline.”

Silence.

“You didn’t mention Sophie.”

Still nothing.

“You wrote that finally the Hale name would continue.”