Chapter 4: When Trash Takes Itself Out

Vivian's POV

One hundred million dollars.

I'd been staring at the number in my bank account for three days, and it still didn't feel real. After Edward Vaughn's call, I'd headed straight to the bank to verify the wire transfer. There it was, sitting pretty in my personal account—money that had nothing to do with Nathaniel, our marriage, or anything except my mom's incredible foresight.

Time to start over, I thought, grabbing my purse. And that starts with buying some decent clothes.

I drove downtown to the pedestrian mall, feeling lighter than I had in years. I wasn't just Vivian-the-abandoned-wife anymore. I was Vivian Sterling, millionaire artist, ready to dress the part.

I was feeding quarters into a parking meter when the shouting started.

"You little punk! Give it back!"

A young dad was lunging at a kid who looked way too familiar. The kid—oh crap, it was Jacob, my eight-year-old son—held a handheld gaming device high overhead.

"Finders keepers!" Jacob taunted, then dropped it hard onto the concrete.

The screen shattered like a spiderweb.

"JACOB!" The dad's wife—clearly very pregnant—stepped forward, hands over her belly. "That was my son's birthday present!"

And there was Barbara, my nightmare ex-mother-in-law, shoving between them like a rabid mama bear.

"My grandson just wanted to play for a minute!" Barbara pushed the pregnant woman backward. "What's wrong with you people? Don't you know how to share?"

The woman stumbled, catching herself on a lamp post. Her husband steadied her, his face turning ghost-white with fury.

"Are you nuts?" he yelled at Barbara. "She's eight months pregnant! You can't just shove her!"

A small crowd gathered, phones out to record the mess. Perfect—Barbara lived for drama, especially with an audience.

"Pregnant women act like they're royalty," Barbara snapped back, her voice dripping with that entitled rage I knew all too well. "Back in my day, it wasn't an excuse to be selfish! You're raising your kids all wrong!"

"Lady, your kid smashed our son's tablet!" the dad roared. "On purpose! And you assaulted my wife!"

Bystanders jumped in. An older woman in yoga gear stepped up. "I saw it all. That boy grabbed it and chucked it. The pregnant lady didn't do a thing wrong."

A college kid nodded. "Yeah, and the old woman shoved her. I got video if you wanna press charges."

Barbara whirled on the crowd. "You're all liars! Ganging up on an innocent kid! This is harassment!"

That's when she spotted me slipping away behind a hot dog cart.

"THERE!" Barbara jabbed a finger at me like I was public enemy number one. "That's his mother! She needs to pay up!"

Heads turned. The pregnant woman looked baffled, the dad hopeful, and Jacob—the little brat—smirked.

I strolled over, my new confidence like armor.

"Sorry for the mix-up," I said calmly to the couple. "But I'm not this kid's mom. I'm his ex-stepmom. Divorce finalized three days ago."

The dad blinked. "Ex-stepmom?"

"Yep. His bio dad is Nathaniel Pryor." I pulled out my phone and showed Nate's contact. "Here's his number and office address. Or file a police report if you wanna go that route."

Barbara's mouth flapped like a fish out of water. "Vivian Sterling, you cold-hearted bitch!"

"Actually, Barbara, I tried raising him. But you and your son spent years sabotaging every effort to teach him basic decency." I turned back to the couple. "As you can see, it shows."

Jacob's face twisted in ugly rage, just like his dad's. "You're the worst! Dad was right—you don't deserve to be anyone's mom!"

The pregnant woman shot her husband a knowing look. "So this is the kid you've been 'abandoning'?"

"Bingo. And now you get why I divorced him."

Sirens wailed, cutting through the chatter. Someone had called the cops.

Barbara switched to full victim mode, clutching her chest. "Officers! This woman ditched her family! Stole her husband's house and left these poor kids homeless!"

The older cop looked exhausted, like he'd seen this circus before. "Ma'am, we're here for assault and property damage. You the guardian of this minor?"

"I'm his grandma, and—"

"Where are his parents?"

"His mother—" Barbara pointed at me again.

"Not me," I cut in, flashing my updated driver's license and divorce papers. "Legal name's Vivian Sterling. Formerly married to the kid's dad, but that's over. No responsibility here."

The cop checked my docs. "And the father?"

I handed over Nate's info. "Nathaniel Pryor. He's got full custody."

They took statements, snapped pics of the busted tablet, and told the couple about filing a claim. Barbara kept ranting about abandonment, but the cops shut her down.

"This is civil," the younger officer said firmly. "We'll note the dad's contact in the report."

As they wrapped up, Jacob stomped over.

"I hope you die alone!" he spat, loud for all to hear.

"Thanks, kid. Good luck with that attitude."

A week later, I was ready for some normalcy. I'd called Rachel for lunch at a trendy bistro.

"Holy crap, Viv!" Rachel nearly choked on her mimosa when I spilled about the trust fund. "Your mom was playing 4D chess while we were all stuck on checkers!"

"I know, right? She kept asking if I was happy, if Nate 'appreciated' me." I stirred my soup. "She saw this coming."

"Smart lady. I never liked that controlling jerk."

"You said that on my wedding day."

"Shoulda listened!" Rachel grinned. "So, what's next? Art school? Travel? Buying a yacht?"

"I'm thinking—"

"Oh, no." Rachel's face fell, eyes over my shoulder. "Don't look, but guess who just walked in."

Of course I looked.

Nathaniel was getting seated in the corner, not alone. Chloe, his "sister," was with him—visibly pregnant. Jacob and my six-year-old daughter Emily flanked them like a twisted family portrait.

Then Chloe spotted me.

Our eyes locked; her face drained of color. Nate followed her gaze and nearly spilled his water.

I raised my mimosa in a mock toast.

"When'd she get knocked up?" I asked Rachel, not quietly.

Chloe's hand flew to her belly. Even from across the room, I lip-read: "Not your business anymore."

I laughed, loud enough to turn heads. "You're right, sweetie! But I'm curious—who's the baby daddy?"

Jacob jumped up, chair scraping. "Shut up! Aunt Chloe's the best!"

Emily bounced. "I'm getting a new mommy! She buys me whatever I want!"

Nate lunged to hush her, but too late. Half the place heard.

Chloe looked ready to vanish. Nate fumed like he might explode.

Me? I just smiled and sipped my pricey mimosa.

What the hell? My ex and his sister getting freaky while I scrubbed his dirty underwear like some damn servant?