I had my twin boys when I was seventeen. While other girls worried about prom and SATs,

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 I had my twin boys when I was seventeen. While other girls worried about prom and SATs,

 I worried about diapers and hiding morning sickness from teachers.


Their father, Evan — my high-school boyfriend, basketball star — swore he loved me.


When I got pregnant, I was terrified, but I told him anyway. His reaction was immediate: "We'll figure it out, babe. I love you. We're a family. I'll be there. Always."


The next morning, he DISAPPEARED. No text. No call. No explanation.


I raised Noah and Liam alone. It was brutal. I spent years juggling motherhood with school, then work, then whatever part-time jobs I could patch together to afford rent, bills, and formula.


But we survived. 


And when this year they both got accepted into a dual-enrollment college prep program at sixteen, I thought every hardship finally meant something.


Then Tuesday happened.


I came home from work to find both boys sitting stiffly on the couch, pale.


"What's wrong?"


Liam's voice was ice.


"Mom… we CAN'T see you anymore."


My stomach dropped.


"What are you talking about?"


Noah looked away.


"WE MET OUR DAD TODAY. He found us. He told us THE TRUTH."


My blood froze.


"What truth? He abandoned—"


"He said YOU kept us from him," Liam snapped. "That YOU pushed him out."


I just stared.


Noah added quietly, "He's the Director of our program. He found us by our last name."


I felt the room tilt.


Liam continued, "He told us that unless you go to his office and AGREE TO HIS TERMS, he'll get us expelled. He said he can make sure we never get into ANY college."


My throat tightened.


"What… what terms?"


Noah's voice trembled with disgust. ⬇️

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