who’d celebrated holidays at our house.
Even people who’d comforted me after my father’s funeral and promised we’d always be family.
Everyone was invited.
Including our children.
Marcus, seventeen, already possessing too much of his father’s confidence and stubbornness.
And Lily, fifteen, still struggling with our family’s collapse and quietly blaming me.
Only one person wasn’t invited.
Me.
Logan didn’t even discuss it.
He simply forwarded the family’s itinerary, complete with flights, hotels, packing requirements, dress codes, and luggage limits.
Everything was arranged with businesslike precision, as if my absence
