Justin couldn’t stop himself. He opened the Facebook app and typed the name that had haunted him for over two decades: Lucy Wilson. His wife—still legally, technically. The woman he’d abandoned without warning, leaving her alone to face the impossible: 12 girls and a life he’d chosen to flee.
He had tried, many times, to forget that name. To push it deep beneath the noise of bars, cities, and fleeting faces. But now, drowning in illness and uncertainty, hers was the name that surfaced. And with it, the memory of the night he walked away without looking back.
Lucy’s profile loaded slowly, and then it hit him. A single photo—crisp, bright, impossible to misread. Her arm was wrapped around a tall young woman in graduation robes. Justin’s breath was knocked out of his body when he realised who he was looking at ….
Lucy beamed with pride as she posted Sloane’s graduation photo. Her heart swelled—Harvard Law. She had done it. Twenty-six years of struggle, tears, and sleepless nights had finally led here. Her dream, once hanging by a thread, now stood tall in a cap and gown.
All twelve of her children were healthy, happy, and thriving. Through every dark day, she had held on. And now, it felt like God had finally answered. Gratitude poured from her like sunlight. What she didn’t know was that this simple Facebook post was about to change everything—for her, and for the kids.
Justin had always believed that life was meant to be devoured, not measured. At 56, he still lived like a man with nothing to lose. The sun, the music, the late-night haze of Ibiza wrapped around him like an old friend. He waited tables by day and danced by moonlight.
Rules had never meant much to him. Settling down, paying a mortgage, raising children—those were cages other people built for themselves. Justin had floated through cities, countries, decades, on a cloud of parties and powdered nights. He wore his freedom like a badge. But lately, it had begun to fray.