Chapter 1

Sarah Miller moved around her kitchen, the scent of roasting chicken filling the air.

Eighteen years. Eighteen years she'd raised Alex and Ben, "her" twin sons, alone. Tonight, they would announce their acceptance into Stanford.

Pride swelled in her chest, a warm, steady feeling she had cultivated carefully. Her husband, Mark Thompson, and his mistress, Brenda Sullivan, were long gone, presumed dead in a boating accident all those years ago.

A tragic end, everyone had said. Sarah knew the truth was far more calculated.

She picked up her phone, a modern smartphone that felt alien compared to the brick she'd owned back then. She typed a message into the Thompson family group text.

"Dinner at the country club next Saturday. Joint graduation and 18th birthday for Alex and Ben. Please RSVP."

Her own family wouldn't be there. They had cut ties when she chose to raise Mark's "illegitimate" children. Their loss.

The party was in full swing. The country club buzzed with local families, but the Thompson table was the loudest. George and Patricia Thompson, Mark's parents, held court, leaving no space for Sarah. Linda, Mark's sister, gestured impatiently at Sarah.

"Sarah, get me another drink, will you? And tell the waiter these canapés are cold."

Sarah nodded, a polite smile fixed on her face. She fetched the drink.

Patricia beamed at Alex and Ben.

"You boys are the spitting image of your father," she declared, then glanced at where Brenda might have stood. "Or perhaps Brenda. Such fine young men."

Alex and Ben, handsome, athletic, and bright, smiled uncomfortably. They knew the story: their father Mark and biological mother Brenda, lost at sea. Sarah, their brave, adoptive mother.

Later, as dessert plates were cleared, Patricia leaned towards Sarah, her voice conspiratorial but loud enough for the table to hear.

"Sarah, dear, George and I have been thinking. Now that the boys are off to Stanford, your house will be so empty. It's far too big for one person. We were thinking we could move in. Keep you company, and it's a lovely place for our golden years."

The house was Sarah's, bought with her own family inheritance, a fact the Thompsons conveniently forgot.

Sarah placed her fork down.

"That's very thoughtful, Patricia," she said, her voice calm and even. "But I've already sold the house."

A stunned silence fell over the Thompson contingent.

"Sold it?" Linda gasped. "Without consulting us?"

"I'm downsizing," Sarah continued smoothly. "And the proceeds have gone into a substantial trust fund for Alex and Ben. It will cover their Stanford education, living expenses, and provide them with monthly stipends until they're forty. To ensure their future is secure."

The Thompsons exchanged annoyed glances, but the mention of money for "their" grandsons mollified them somewhat. Satisfied, for now. Sarah watched them, her expression unreadable. The first part of her plan was complete.