Stronger Than My Mistakes

I'd spent an entire year preparing for my son Tristan Pascall's spot at a top international school.

By the final admissions review, I had every single document ready. All that was missing was the original copy of Richard Pascall and my marriage certificate. Once we handed that in, it would be official.

But when we got to the admissions office, Richard turned on me, accusing me of arranging this without telling him.

Before I could clap back, the admin frowned and said, "Ma'am, according to the system, Mr. Pascall's spouse isn't you."

My whole body went cold.

And then Iris Poole—who had been standing behind Richard this whole time—stepped up and slid her marriage certificate across the counter.

The staff checked it, nodded, and said, "Mr. Pascall, Ms. Poole, your registration date is June, four years ago. Everything looks fine. You may proceed."

June, four years ago.

That was the exact month Richard held my hand in front of all our friends and family at our engagement party and promised I was his one true love.

He had lied to me about that for the past seven years.

Richard Pascall's black Bentley rolled to a stop at the school gates.

He stepped out first, his suit sharp, his face glowing with that too-polished smile. My heart stupidly leapt for a second—I thought maybe he'd come to support me and Tristan Pascall.

Then the passenger door opened.

Iris Poole slid out, swinging her hips as if she were walking a runway. She was the heiress of Poole Corporation and Richard's long-time "business partner".

The moment her heels hit the pavement, she hooked her arm through Richard's, as if she owned him. She had her chin tilted, her eyes locked on me; it felt as if she was showing who was boss.

Before I could even breathe, Tristan's little hand slipped out of mine. His whole face lit up as he shouted, "Mama Iris! Did you bring my special-edition Transformer?"

Iris's smile was instant and sweet as candy. She reached into her Hermès bag and pulled out a shiny gift box.

"Of course I did, sweetheart. I never forget a promise I made to you. Anything you want, I'll get it for you."

"Thanks, Mama Iris! You're way better than that bossy mom at home!"

He clutched the box tightly and ran to her side without even glancing back at me.

I froze, my chest hollowing out. Tristan glanced at me once, rolled his eyes, and then wrapped his arms around Iris's leg.

Right then, Richard walked over, looking annoyed instead of ashamed. "Who told you to come here on your own? Didn't I say I'd handle this?"

His eyes skimmed my outfit, and he sneered, "Seriously, look at you. You can't show up to something this important dressed like that. You're embarrassing me."

I looked down at my clothes. I was wearing a custom-tailored dress. Sure, it didn't have any flashy logos, but it was elegant all the same.

I lifted