I Was 8. My Mom Ditched Me at the Airport to Fly to Hawaii With Her New Husband and His Kids. She Told Me to “Find My Own Way Home.” She Never Guessed I’d Call My Billionaire Father. When She Got Back From Her Vacation, Her Whole World Was in Ruins.
The phone in my hand was black. Silent. Heavier than my backpack. Find your own way home. The words echoed in the sudden, roaring silence of my head. The laughter from the call—Kylie’s, Noah’s, Calvin’s—felt like it was still happening, a tinny, cruel sound buzzing in my ears. The gate agent was still smiling, her…