The Belated Confession from a Disqualified Father

My six-year-old twins, Liam and Lily, begged to go to Disneyland.

But my husband, Julian Vance, planned to take his mistress to a prenatal clinic.

Annoyed by the twins' crying and deeming them "too delicate and spoiled," Julian drove them out to the Mojave Desert, demanding they learn how to survive on their own.

I couldn't even fathom it. I begged him desperately.

"Julian, please! Give me the coordinates! Tell me where my babies are!"

"They're only six! They'll die out there! I promise I'll discipline them. I'll never let them bother you again. Please, just let me go get them back!"