I came home to find my children sitting on the porch with packed suitcases, their faces filled with confusion. My heart pounded — we hadn’t planned any trip.

I rushed to them. “What’s going on?” I asked.

Jake, my ten-year-old, looked up. “You told us to,” he said softly.

“Told you what?” I asked, kneeling in front of them.

“You texted us,” Jake replied. “You said to pack and wait outside. That Dad was coming to get us.”

I froze. “I never sent that,” I said, my voice trembling.

Jake handed me his phone. As I scrolled through the messages, my blood ran cold.

Just then, a car pulled into the driveway. My heart sank further when I saw who was driving — my ex-husband.

And that’s when I knew things were about to get a lot worse.