The irony wasn't lost on me as I stood in the lobby of the Senator's office building, my heels clicking against the marble floor I'd helped design twelve years ago. Back then, I was Victoria Chen, the devoted wife who chose marriage over the Milan fellowship. Now, I was simply Victoria Chen, the architect whose sustainable housing project had just won the International Design Excellence Award. "Ms. Chen?" A young aide approached, clipboard clutched to her chest. "Senator Whitmore will see you now." Senator. Not Daniel. Not my ex-husband. The formality was almost laughable. I adjusted my daughter Lily's hand in mine. At seven, she was already perceptive enough to sense my tension. "It's okay, Mama," she whispered in Mandarin, squeezing my fingers. The aide's eyes flickered to Lily with barely concealed curiosity. Of course she was curious. Everyone wanted to know about Victoria Chen's mysterious adopted daughter from China, the child I'd brought home three years ago when I was building schools in rural Guangdong Province. Daniel's office was exactly as pretentious as I'd imagined—all dark wood and American flags, with photographs of him shaking hands with important people covering every surface. My eyes caught on one photo in particular: Daniel, his new wife Marissa, and their twins. Picture perfect. Political gold. Notably absent? Our son, Marcus. "Victoria." Daniel stood from behind his desk, and I hated that my heart still lurched. He'd aged well, the bastard. Silver at his temples now, making him look distinguished rather than old. "Thank you for coming." "You said it was about Marcus." I didn't sit, didn't let go of Lily's hand. "I have a meeting with the mayor in an hour about the waterfront project, so please be brief." Something flickered across his face. Pride? Regret? "I heard about your award. Congratulations." "Is that why you asked me here? To congratulate me thirteen years too late?" His jaw tightened. "Marcus has been expelled from Ashford Academy." My stomach dropped, but I kept my expression neutral. Ashford was one of the most prestigious boarding schools in New England. Marcus had been there since he was fourteen, since Marissa decided a teenage stepson didn't fit the "young, dynamic family" image she was cultivating for Daniel's Senate run. "Expelled for what?" "Fighting. Vandalism. Skipping classes." Daniel rubbed his temple. "He's been acting out for months. The headmaster says he needs family support, structure. Marissa thinks—" "Marissa thinks what?" I cut him off, ice in my voice. "That the son she shipped off three years ago is now inconvenient enough to return to sender?" "That's not fair." "Fair?" I laughed, sharp and bitter. "You want to talk about fair? You left me for her because I was too traditional, too boring, remember? Because I wanted family dinners instead of fundraising galas. And Marcus—" My voice cracked despite my best efforts. "Marcus chose to live with you because he thought you were exciting, that I was holding him back. So forgive me if I don't feel particularly sympathetic." Daniel had the decency to look ashamed. "He was thirteen. He didn't understand." "He's seventeen now. Old enough to live with his choices." "Victoria, please." Daniel moved around the desk. "He's been asking for you. He won't talk to me or Marissa. He just keeps saying he wants his mom." Those words hit me like a physical blow. For four years, Marcus had barely returned my calls. Birthday messages went unanswered. The Christmas gifts I sent to Ashford came back unopened. I'd grieved my son like a death, because in many ways, it was. "Why should I believe he actually wants to see me? Why now?" Daniel pulled out his phone, tapped the screen, and handed it to me. A text message thread with Marcus: *I messed up, Dad. I want to go home.* *You are home. Marissa and I will handle this.* *Not your home. Mom's home. I want my real family.* My hands trembled as I read the messages. Lily tugged my sleeve. "Mama?" "It's okay, baby." But it wasn't okay. Nothing about this was okay. ---