Maya POV
She told them after dinner.
Not before. Not during. After. Because she needed them to eat first and she needed her voice to sound normal. A mother's trick that every mother learns. You feed them. You settle them. Then you tell them the thing that will change everything.
They were in the living room. Ethan was doing homework at the coffee table. Oliver was building something with Legos. Normal Friday night stuff.
Maya sat down on the couch.
"Hey, you guys. I want to talk to you about something."
Both boys looked up. Ethan's eyes went cautious. Oliver's eyes went soft like he was already worried.
"Your dad wants to meet you tomorrow," Maya said. The words came out exactly like she'd practiced them in the car. "Tomorrow at 10:30 in the morning. You're going to get to spend time with him."
Ethan didn't move. He was processing. She could see him working through the logic in his head like he did with every big thing.
Oliver put down his Lego piece.
"He's coming here?" Oliver asked.
"No, honey. We're going to meet him somewhere. A nice place. A park."
"Is he mean?" Ethan said quietly.
Maya's chest tightened. She didn't know if Isaac was mean. She didn't know who he was anymore.
"No," she said. "He's not mean. He's just... complicated. He's a very busy man and he's had to learn how to be a father really fast."
"Does he like kids?" Oliver asked. His fingers were picking at the Lego piece, destroying the little tower he'd built.
Maya realized she didn't have a good answer for that either.
"I think he does," she said carefully. "I think he's going to really like you both. But he's nervous too. Meeting you is a big deal for him."
Ethan was quiet. Too quiet.
"What if we don't want to?" he said finally.
Maya felt the floor shift beneath her.
"You don't have to want to right now," she said. "But you're going to go. And you're going to give it a chance. Okay?"
"Okay," Ethan said, but he didn't sound okay.
Oliver went back to his Legos but his hands weren't steady anymore.
That night, Maya helped them pick out clothes for tomorrow.
She told herself it was normal. Parents helped their kids pick out clothes all the time. But her hands were shaking as she pulled open Ethan's closet and asked him which shirt he wanted to wear. Did he want the blue one or the green one? The one with the stripe or the plain one?
It mattered. Somehow it mattered enormously what her sons wore when they met their father for the first time.
She helped Oliver pick dark jeans because they didn't show stains. She helped Ethan pick his science club shirt because it made him feel smart and confident.
They laid out the clothes on their beds like they were preparing for battle.
Around 8 PM, Oliver asked if they could practice what to say.
"What do you mean, buddy?" Maya asked.
"Like, when we see him, what do we talk about?"
Her heart broke a little.
"You just talk. You tell him about school. You tell him what you like. You ask him questions. You don't have to practice it."
But they did practice. They sat in the living room and Ethan asked her questions like he was his father. What do you like to do? Do you have any hobbies? What's your favorite food?
And she answered as Isaac would answer. Strong. Confident. Not warm but not cold either.
Oliver watched and listened and asked her if his dad would think he was stupid for liking art instead of science.
"No," Maya said. "Your dad doesn't think anyone is stupid. He thinks everyone has something they're good at."
She didn't know if that was true. She was making it up as she went. She was trying to build her sons up for a man she didn't trust.
Around 10 PM, her phone buzzed.
Text from Isaac: "Location changed. Private park pavilion. Same time. I'm trying to keep the media away from them."
Maya read it three times.
He was thinking about protecting them from the media. He was thinking about what was best for them.
She didn't know how to feel about that.
She didn't respond.
Instead, she went to the kitchen and started packing snacks. Crackers. Cheese. Apple slices. Gummy snacks that Oliver loved. Granola bars that Ethan would eat if he got nervous. Juice boxes. Water bottles.
She packed enough snacks to get them through a week.
Sophie called around 11 PM.
"How are you holding up?" Sophie asked.
"I'm packing snacks," Maya said.
"Maya."
"I know. It's stupid. But what if he doesn't have snacks? What if they get hungry and he doesn't know what to give them? What if they think he doesn't care because he doesn't have their favorite things?"
"That's not your job anymore," Sophie said gently. "That's his job."
But it had always been Maya's job. It had been her job for eight years to make sure her children had everything they needed. And now she was supposed to just hand that responsibility over to a man she didn't trust.
She couldn't do that.
By midnight, she'd packed three different lunch bags with different combinations of snacks. She'd written little notes on napkins. "Oliver likes his apple slices cut thin." "Ethan gets anxious when he's hungry so offer food before he asks." "Both boys like to talk about their interests. Ask them about school."
She was writing instructions for their father like he was a babysitter instead of a parent.
At 1 AM, she finally went to check on them.
Ethan was asleep but he was curled up in a tight ball like he was trying to make himself smaller. Oliver had kicked off his blankets and was sprawled out like he was running away from something even in sleep.
Maya stood in their doorway and felt something break inside her.
These were her children. She'd kept them safe for eight years. She'd loved them when no one else was there. She'd built an entire life around making sure they were okay.
And now she had to watch another person love them.
She had to watch them love him back.
She went downstairs and sat on the couch and she didn't let herself cry because if she started, she wouldn't be able to stop.
At 2:47 AM, her phone rang.
Unknown number.
She answered because it was late enough that unknown numbers meant something was wrong.
"Ms. Thompson?" A man's voice. Professional. Concerned. "This is Principal Morrison from Boston Academy. I'm sorry to call so late but I thought you should know that we received a request this morning from Isaac Hale's office asking for Ethan and Oliver's school records and medical information. As a matter of procedure, I wanted to confirm with you that you authorized this request."
Maya's stomach went cold.
"He requested their records?" she asked.
"Yes. It came through his legal team. Everything from academic performance to health history to behavioral assessments. He's building a file on them."
Building a file.
Like they were business assets. Like he was doing research before a merger.
"I'll call him," Maya said. "I'll tell him to go through me for that information."
"That's your prerogative," Principal Morrison said. "But Ms. Thompson, I wanted you to know that he also asked about their social development. Whether they had behavioral issues. Whether they were well adjusted. He's collecting evidence."
For what? For a custody battle? To prove she'd done a good job and therefore they didn't need him? Or to prove she'd failed and they needed him more?
After the call ended, Maya sat in the dark living room.
She looked at the snack bags she'd packed.
She looked at the clothes laid out upstairs for her sons to wear to meet their father.
She looked at the house she'd built for them, the safety she'd created, the love she'd poured into them.
And she realized that none of it mattered anymore.
Because Isaac Hale was building his case. He was collecting evidence. He was preparing for battle.
And tomorrow, when her sons walked into that park, they weren't just meeting their father.
They were meeting a man who was already treating them like pawns in a game.
At 3:47 AM, she got a text from Isaac.
"Tell them I'm looking forward to meeting them. Tell them to be honest with me. Tell them I won't hurt them."
She almost laughed.
He was telling her what to tell her children.
He was already giving her instructions.
She didn't respond.
Instead, she went upstairs and checked on her sons one more time.
In a few hours, they would wake up, would put on the clothes she'd picked out, and would drive them to meet their father.
And everything would change.