I came home to find my children sitting on the porch, suitcases packed, confusion in their eyes. They said I’d told them to leave — but I hadn’t. Panic set in as I tried to make sense of the situation. Just as my heart was racing, a car pulled into the driveway. When I saw who was behind the wheel, I knew things were about to take a dangerous turn.

“What’s going on?” I asked, rushing toward my kids. My son, Jake, looked up with tears in his eyes, holding out his phone. “You texted us, Mom. You said to pack and wait for Dad.”

I froze. I hadn’t sent them any message. I grabbed the phone, scrolling through the texts, and my stomach sank. The message read: “Pack your stuff, take the cash I left, and wait for Dad.”

I had no idea how it was sent, but I knew one thing: it wasn’t me.

Before I could process this, a familiar car pulled into the driveway. It was my ex-husband. I couldn’t believe he had gone this far, using the kids to manipulate me. I ordered my kids inside, but he wouldn’t leave without a fight. “They shouldn’t have been left alone,” he said, his smug expression making my blood boil.

I stood firm, protecting my kids, but I knew this was just the beginning. He would stop at nothing to try and tear us apart. The truth was, he had always been good at playing the victim, but now I had proof. I wasn’t going to let him manipulate my children anymore.