It was a notification from a social media app.

Kayla had just posted a new photo, tagging Scott.

I tapped the notification on my screen.

The image loaded slowly in the dim light of the street.

It was a photo of Kayla and Scott standing inside a high-end baby boutique downtown.

Kayla was holding a designer leather stroller, her free hand resting on her small baby bump.

Scott had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, a wide, smug grin on his face.

The caption beneath the photo read: “Building our empire. Only the best for our little prince. #NewBeginnings #Blessed #MillionDollarBaby.”

Rachel leaned over my shoulder, her breath cold against my cheek.

She let out a sharp, angry hiss.

“He hasn’t even signed his name on the final custody waiver yet,” she whispered.

“He thinks he has already won,” I said.

The cold rain started to fall harder, tapping against my hood and wetting my hair.

“Come on,” Rachel said, pulling my arm toward the glass doors of the building. “Jerome is waiting for us.”

We walked back into the warmth of the office building, shaking the water from our umbrellas.