The Midnight Iris of Betrayal

From the back cover

After fifteen years of marriage, my husband finally noticed my nail polish. The shade was 'Midnight Iris.'

It was also the favorite shade of his new assistant, Cheri.

When I confronted him, Brennan called me ridiculous. "Maybe you should get a job," he sneered. "Stop obsessing over meaningless things."

But the deepest cut came from my son, Bird.

"You don't even do anything all day," he said, his words a mirror of his father's. "And Cheri is picking me up today. She's way more fun than you."

Later, he texted, asking me to buy a birthday present for Cheri. My own birthday had been the week before. He hadn't even mentioned it.

He hadn't forgotten. He just didn't care. I had been replaced in my own home, in my own son's heart.

Before the tears could blind me, I sent a text to my lawyer.

"I want to give up custody. Completely. I can't be a mother to a child who doesn't see me."