I Raised My Twin Sons All Alone – but When They Turned 16, They Came Home from Their College Program and Told Me They Wanted Nothing More to Do with Me

I did remember. I just didn’t want to.

A few minutes later, the bell above the door jingled. Evan walked in like he owned the place, in a designer coat, polished shoes, and a smile that made my stomach turn.

He slid into the booth across from the boys like he belonged there. I stayed behind the counter for a moment, watching. Liam’s body stiffened, and Noah wouldn’t look at him.

I walked over with a pot of coffee, holding it like a shield.

“I didn’t order that rubbish, Rachel,” Evan said, not even glancing at me.

“You didn’t have to,” I replied. “You’re not here for coffee. You’re here to make a deal with me and my sons.”

“You always did have a sharp… tongue, Rachel,” he said, chuckling as he reached for a sugar packet.

I ignored the jab.

“We’ll do it. The banquet. The photo ops. Whatever. But make no mistake, Evan. I’m doing this for my sons. Not you.”

“Of course you are,” he said. His eyes met mine, smug and unreadable.

He stood and grabbed a chocolate chip muffin from the display case, peeling a five-dollar bill from his wallet like he was doing us a favor.

“See you tonight, family,” he said, smirking as he walked out. “Wear something nice.”

“He’s loving this,” Noah said, exhaling slowly.

“He thinks he’s already won.” Liam frowned, looking at me.

“Let him think it,” I said. “He’s got another thing coming.”