My Milk Trap in Golden Triangle - Chapter 12: Chapter 12
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I came home expecting a warm welcome—maybe even a hug. Instead, Liam handed me divorce papers.
"Divorce?" My voice cracked. "Why?"
His answer hit me like a punch to the gut. "You think I don’t know what happened in Myanmar? You’re tainted now. Used by God knows how many men. My children can’t have a mother like you."
I stood there, numb, wondering why I’d fought so damn hard to come back.
"And those videos?" His lip curled in disgust. "The ones where you’re playing some seductive dealer? They’re all over my office, my friends’ group chats. You’ve made me a laughingstock. Do you seriously want our kids growing up with a mother who’s—who’s that?"
Every word was a knife twisting deeper.
All I’d wanted was to put food on the table.
With nowhere to go, I wandered the streets in a daze.
Then I saw them—schoolkids laughing, backpacks bouncing. My stomach dropped. My daughter. She’d be waiting for me.
I ran to her school just in time to see a group of boys shoving her.
"Ha! Your mom’s that sexy dealer from the videos! My dad says that’s just code for prostitute!"
"My mom says your mom’s trash!"
"We don’t hang out with your kind!"
My daughter screamed back, fists clenched. "Shut up! My mom’s not like that!"
I lunged forward, shoving the boys aside and pulling her into my arms. She froze for a second—then collapsed against me, sobbing.
"Daddy said you chose money over us! That you’re a bad mom!"
"No, baby, that’s not—" My throat closed. What could I even say?
The boys scattered when they saw me. That night, we crashed at Hannah’s place.
After tucking my daughter in, Hannah handed me a beer and sank onto the couch beside me. "So… what now?"
I let out a hollow laugh. "Now? Liam thinks I’m ruined. Maybe he’s right. I’ll fight for my daughter, but our son…"
Hannah squeezed my shoulder. "Hey. You’re here. Breathing. Unlike half the poor souls still stuck in Myanmar."
I took a shaky breath. "Yeah. As long as I’m alive… there’s still a chance."
The auditorium at Riverdale High was packed for the social education seminar, its theme bold on the projector screen: "Fraud Prevention Starts with Me." I trailed behind Fiona Hill and settled into the chair beside her onstage.
Fresh off my return from northern Myanmar, I’d been brought on as a consultant for the Riverdale PD—feeding them intel on criminal operations overseas while sharing my own nightmare firsthand. The goal? To hammer home just how ruthless those scammers were, how easily they preyed on desperation.
The talk went smoothly. Too smoothly, maybe. As we wrapped up, I shot Fiona a tired smile. "If I can help it," I murmured, "no one else should have to learn these lessons the hard way."
My phone buzzed the second the words left my mouth.
Unknown number. Three lines of text:
Lulu, I told you—
they understand human nature perfectly.
Why didn’t you believe me?
Early summer heat pressed against the windows, but right then? Ice slid down my spine.
"Divorce?" My voice cracked. "Why?"
His answer hit me like a punch to the gut. "You think I don’t know what happened in Myanmar? You’re tainted now. Used by God knows how many men. My children can’t have a mother like you."
I stood there, numb, wondering why I’d fought so damn hard to come back.
"And those videos?" His lip curled in disgust. "The ones where you’re playing some seductive dealer? They’re all over my office, my friends’ group chats. You’ve made me a laughingstock. Do you seriously want our kids growing up with a mother who’s—who’s that?"
Every word was a knife twisting deeper.
All I’d wanted was to put food on the table.
With nowhere to go, I wandered the streets in a daze.
Then I saw them—schoolkids laughing, backpacks bouncing. My stomach dropped. My daughter. She’d be waiting for me.
I ran to her school just in time to see a group of boys shoving her.
"Ha! Your mom’s that sexy dealer from the videos! My dad says that’s just code for prostitute!"
"My mom says your mom’s trash!"
"We don’t hang out with your kind!"
My daughter screamed back, fists clenched. "Shut up! My mom’s not like that!"
I lunged forward, shoving the boys aside and pulling her into my arms. She froze for a second—then collapsed against me, sobbing.
"Daddy said you chose money over us! That you’re a bad mom!"
"No, baby, that’s not—" My throat closed. What could I even say?
The boys scattered when they saw me. That night, we crashed at Hannah’s place.
After tucking my daughter in, Hannah handed me a beer and sank onto the couch beside me. "So… what now?"
I let out a hollow laugh. "Now? Liam thinks I’m ruined. Maybe he’s right. I’ll fight for my daughter, but our son…"
Hannah squeezed my shoulder. "Hey. You’re here. Breathing. Unlike half the poor souls still stuck in Myanmar."
I took a shaky breath. "Yeah. As long as I’m alive… there’s still a chance."
The auditorium at Riverdale High was packed for the social education seminar, its theme bold on the projector screen: "Fraud Prevention Starts with Me." I trailed behind Fiona Hill and settled into the chair beside her onstage.
Fresh off my return from northern Myanmar, I’d been brought on as a consultant for the Riverdale PD—feeding them intel on criminal operations overseas while sharing my own nightmare firsthand. The goal? To hammer home just how ruthless those scammers were, how easily they preyed on desperation.
The talk went smoothly. Too smoothly, maybe. As we wrapped up, I shot Fiona a tired smile. "If I can help it," I murmured, "no one else should have to learn these lessons the hard way."
My phone buzzed the second the words left my mouth.
Unknown number. Three lines of text:
Lulu, I told you—
they understand human nature perfectly.
Why didn’t you believe me?
Early summer heat pressed against the windows, but right then? Ice slid down my spine.
End of My Milk Trap in Golden Triangle Chapter 12. View all chapters or return to My Milk Trap in Golden Triangle book page.