singer from New Orleans, and I felt like a bird in a gilded cage. The only reason I stayed was for them: my five-year-old twin sons, Leo and

beside him, a vision in pale pink, her hand resting lightly on his arm. He called her his "white moonlight," a term that made my stomach turn. H

cut through th

rlett' s reaction was theatrical, a frantic cry for help. Julian was by her side in an

r fall had triggered a major medical crisis. She had a rare, severe f

lass of whiskey in his hand, sta

a match," he said, his voice flat.

, and his eyes were col

. They' re per

' re only five. A bone marrow donatio

" he snapped. "It' s a simple

ed, my voice trembling. "I'

re not a match. Besides, this is for the best.

hospital now." He hung up and looked at me, his expression unyielding. "Scarlett wil

w. He was not just taking my sons; he was e