PART 1<\/p>\n
\u201cTake the girls with you. Now that I\u2019m having a son, I want to start a real family.\u201d<\/p>\n
Those were the first words out of my husband\u2019s mouth barely five minutes after our divorce papers were signed.<\/p>\n
I looked up at the clock on the wall of the attorney\u2019s office: 10:21 AM.<\/p>\n
For twelve years, I had been Elena Vance. From that exact moment on, I was Elena Sterling again.<\/p>\n
I thought my hands would shake. I thought I would burst into tears. I thought that looking at the man with whom I had built a life would make me feel like something inside me was breaking into a thousand pieces.<\/p>\n
None of that happened. All I felt was a profound, quiet calm.<\/p>\n
My ex-husband, Mark Vance, remained seated across from me, scrolling through his phone as if he had just wrapped up a routine business meeting. He hadn\u2019t even capped his pen before dialing a number.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt\u2019s all done, babe. I\u2019m leaving the office now and coming straight to you. Is the appointment still set for eleven?\u201d<\/p>\n
There was no need to ask who he was talking to: Chloe.<\/p>\n
The woman Mark had spent the past year introducing as a \u201ckey logistics consultant for his construction firm.\u201d<\/p>\n
He smiled into the receiver in a way I hadn\u2019t seen him smile at me in years. \u201cTell my little champ his dad is on his way.\u201d<\/p>\n
He hung up and finally looked at me. \u201cI assume you already know. Chloe is having a boy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then he added, with an almost childish smirk of satisfaction, \u201cMy parents are thrilled. Finally, someone to carry on the Vance name.\u201d<\/p>\n
I felt something far worse than jealousy. I felt a deep, heartbreaking shame for my daughters.<\/p>\n
Sophia was nine. Maya was five.<\/p>\n
When Sophia was born, my mother-in-law, Teresa, had held her in her arms, looked down at her face, and said, \u201cShe\u2019s beautiful. Let\u2019s hope the next one turns out to be a boy.\u201d<\/p>\n
Everyone in the room had laughed. I had laughed too, trying to be a good sport.<\/p>\n
When Maya was born, Mark\u2019s sister, Patricia, made a joke over a family dinner: \u201cPoor Mark. He\u2019s going to be surrounded by women his entire life.\u201d<\/p>\n
Again, everyone had laughed.<\/p>\n
Over the years, I realized that certain family jokes were just confessions in disguise.<\/p>\n
Ever since Chloe announced she was carrying a boy, the Vance family had shifted entirely. Teresa sent her fresh flowers every week. My father-in-law, Arthur, opened an investment account for \u201cthe future heir.\u201d Patricia accompanied Chloe to high-end baby boutiques.<\/p>\n
Meanwhile, Mark spent less and less time with Sophia and Maya.<\/p>\n
One evening, while Maya was coloring at the kitchen island, she looked up at me and asked, \u201cMom, why does Dad smile when he looks at his phone, but when we talk to him he\u2019s always tired?\u201d<\/p>\n
I hadn\u2019t known how to answer her. \u201cAdults sometimes have complicated things on their minds, sweetie.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maya set her crayon down. \u201cDo the things Dad does make you sad?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked at her. \u201cA little bit.\u201d<\/p>\n
Then my five-year-old daughter took my hand in hers. Mark hadn\u2019t held my hand in months.<\/p>\n
That morning in the law office, Mark finished proving to me that I had made the absolute right choice.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019m keeping the penthouse,\u201d he said smoothly. \u201cThe SUV stays with me too.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cFine,\u201d I said.<\/p>\n
He frowned, almost disappointed that I wasn\u2019t putting up a fight. \u201cAnd since you requested primary custody of the girls, they\u2019re your responsibility. I\u2019ll see them whenever my work schedule permits.\u201d<\/p>\n
Even the divorce attorney looked up from his desk. \u201cThey\u2019re your daughters, Mark. Not dentist appointments you fit between meetings.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark just shrugged. \u201cI\u2019m starting a new life. Chloe is having a baby. Things are going to change.\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia, who had come along to support her brother, offered a tight smile. \u201cMaybe it\u2019s for the best, Elena. Mark can finally have the family he always wanted.\u201d<\/p>\n
I turned slowly to face her. \u201cMark already had a family.\u201d<\/p>\n
No one answered.<\/p>\n
Mark rolled his eyes. \u201cHere comes the drama.\u201d<\/p>\n
I reached into my handbag, pulled out the key fobs for both the penthouse and the SUV, and set them quietly on the mahogany desk. \u201cKeep both.\u201d<\/p>\n
His expression shifted immediately. He looked like a man convinced he had just won the ultimate victory.<\/p>\n
I stood up, adjusted my coat, and walked toward the door. Before stepping out into the hallway, I paused and looked back over my shoulder.<\/p>\n
\u201cJust remember one thing, Mark.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat\u2019s that?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cHaving the keys to something doesn\u2019t mean you own it.\u201d<\/p>\n
The smirk vanished from his face. \u201cWhat the hell are you talking about?\u201d<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer. I walked straight out of the office.<\/p>\n
Down on the street, a black luxury sedan with a private driver was idling at the curb. And in less than four hours, my daughters and I would be on a flight out of the country.<\/p>\n
What Mark didn\u2019t know yet was that the penthouse where he planned to install his new mistress, the SUV he bragged about owning, and a massive portion of the lavish lifestyle he believed he built with his own money had never belonged to him in the first place.<\/p>\n
PART 2
\n\u201cAre you going to Spain?!\u201d<\/p>\n
I heard Mark\u2019s voice shouting behind me as I reached the sidewalk. He had hurried out of the building to catch up.<\/p>\n
The driver held the rear door open while Mark stared at the black sedan, then glared at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe girls are already at the airport,\u201d I replied calmly. \u201cOur flight leaves this afternoon.\u201d<\/p>\n
His face contorted in anger. \u201cYou can\u2019t take my daughters out of the country without my legal authorization!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou signed the international relocation consent three weeks ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark opened his mouth, then snapped it shut.<\/p>\n
During the settlement negotiations, he had been so distracted talking to Chloe and arranging his new life that he had signed dozens of custody attachments without reading a single line.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhere are you going to live?!\u201d he demanded.<\/p>\n
\u201cMadrid.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd where did you get the money for all of this?!\u201d<\/p>\n
That single question summed up our entire twelve-year marriage.<\/p>\n
Mark knew that before we married, I had worked in corporate strategy. He also knew that my grandfather, Ernesto Sterling, had founded a regional logistics firm years ago.<\/p>\n
What Mark had never bothered to investigate was what happened after my grandfather passed.<\/p>\n
Sterling Logistics had expanded over decades into a global supply-chain conglomerate with major distribution hubs across the United States, Spain, France, and Western Europe. After my grandfather\u2019s death, his controlling shares were secured inside a private family trust.<\/p>\n
I was one of the primary beneficiaries.<\/p>\n
For years, Mark had believed that the luxury penthouse where we lived was secured through one of his commercial real estate contacts. In reality, the building was owned by a holding company managed directly by my family\u2019s trust.<\/p>\n
The luxury SUV he drove was also leased under a Sterling corporate fleet account.<\/p>\n
I had never lied to him about it. There simply came a point in our marriage where I stopped correcting his arrogant assumptions. Every time we argued, Mark would sneer, \u201cRemember who pays for this roof over your head.\u201d And every time he said it, I understood a little clearer what kind of man I had married.<\/p>\n
\u201cGoodbye, Mark.\u201d<\/p>\n
I stepped into the sedan and closed the door.<\/p>\n
While I headed toward the airport, Mark drove his fleet SUV to a private medical clinic. Chloe was waiting for him in the VIP lounge, flanked by Teresa, Arthur, and Patricia. The entire Vance family had gathered for the ultrasound of their long-awaited male heir.<\/p>\n
\u201cHow\u2019s my little champ doing?\u201d Mark asked as he walked in, holding a bouquet of flowers.<\/p>\n
Teresa patted Chloe\u2019s arm affectionately. \u201cThis baby was sent to unite our family.\u201d<\/p>\n
Minutes later, the obstetrician began the high-resolution ultrasound.<\/p>\n
Arthur pointed proudly at the monitor. \u201cLook at that jawline. That\u2019s a Vance jaw if I\u2019ve ever seen one.\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia chuckled. \u201cAnd the nose is identical to Mark\u2019s.\u201d<\/p>\n
The doctor, however, stopped smiling. He adjusted the probe, re-examined the biometric measurements on the screen, checked the chart, and measured again.<\/p>\n
Chloe noticed the sudden change in his demeanor. \u201cDoctor? Is something wrong?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe fetus appears completely healthy,\u201d the doctor reassured her.<\/p>\n
Everyone in the room let out a collective sigh of relief.<\/p>\n
\u201cHowever,\u201d the doctor continued carefully, \u201cthere is a significant discrepancy regarding the gestational age.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark frowned. \u201cChloe indicated she was roughly fourteen weeks along.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cCorrect,\u201d the doctor said, turning the screen slightly. \u201cHowever, based on the femur length and cranial development, the fetus is closer to twenty-one weeks.\u201d<\/p>\n
A suffocating silence fell over the room.<\/p>\n
\u201cTwenty-one weeks?\u201d Mark repeated, his voice dropping.<\/p>\n
Chloe\u2019s face drained of all color.<\/p>\n
Patricia was the first to run the math in her head. \u201cWait a minute\u2026 you two weren\u2019t even seeing each other twenty-one weeks ago.\u201d<\/p>\n
Arthur pulled out his phone calendar. \u201cThat would put conception right around the first week of February.\u201d<\/p>\n
Teresa snapped her head toward her son. \u201cMark was in Chicago for five days on that construction bid in early February!\u201d<\/p>\n
Chloe sat up abruptly on the exam table. \u201cUltrasounds make mistakes all the time!\u201d<\/p>\n
The doctor maintained a professional, neutral tone. \u201cMinor variations happen, but a seven-week discrepancy is a substantial margin.\u201d<\/p>\n
Mark slowly let the bouquet of flowers slip from his hand. They hit the floor with a soft thud.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou told me this baby was conceived after Valentine\u2019s Day, Chloe,\u201d Mark said, his voice terrifyingly quiet.<\/p>\n
Chloe looked away, clutching the paper gown. \u201cI said\u2026 I said probably.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cProbably?!\u201d<\/p>\n
Patricia took a step back toward the door. The exact same family that had been celebrating their \u201cheir\u201d minutes earlier began eyeing Chloe with cold suspicion.<\/p>\n
Just as Mark was about to demand an answer, his phone vibrated violently in his pocket.<\/p>\n
It was a text from the penthouse building manager:<\/p>\n
Mr. Vance, we need to speak urgently regarding the lease status of the unit you are occupying.<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
PART 3
\nSophia was the first to spot me across the international terminal.<\/p>\n
\u201cMom!\u201d<\/p>\n
She ran toward me, wrapping her arms around my waist so tightly I nearly lost my balance. Maya came right behind her, clutching her favorite stuffed bear.<\/p>\n
\u201cAre we really going on the big plane now?\u201d Maya asked, looking up at me.<\/p>\n
\u201cWe really are, sweetie.\u201d<\/p>\n
Our longtime nanny, Rosa, was waiting by the luggage carts. My mother had been living in Spain for six years, overseeing the European operations of Sterling Logistics. Over the past few months, she had helped me arrange every single detail of our move.<\/p>\n
This was not a midnight escape. Mark had the new address. He had court-ordered visitation rights. He had the girls\u2019 school schedules. And above all, he had personally signed the legal consent permitting our daughters to reside permanently with me in Madrid.<\/p>\n
Maya took my hand. \u201cDoes our new house have a garden?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA very big one,\u201d I smiled.<\/p>\n
\u201cWith flowers?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cLots of them.\u201d<\/p>\n
She beamed. That simple smile was worth more than every penthouse, luxury car, or family name in the world.<\/p>\n
As we walked toward the departure gate, my phone vibrated in my coat pocket.<\/p>\n
Mark.<\/p>\n
I didn\u2019t answer. He called back immediately. Then the text messages started flooding in:<\/p>\n
The building manager says I have 30 days to sign a commercial lease or vacate the penthouse! What is going on?!<\/p>\n
A second text flashed:<\/p>\n
The dealership says the SUV account is flagged for fleet return!<\/p>\n
And finally:<\/p>\n
ELENA, ANSWER YOUR PHONE RIGHT NOW.<\/p>\n
My attorney had warned me this moment would come. In the divorce settlement, Mark had demanded sole possession of both the residence and the vehicle. I had agreed without hesitation. The problem was that he had never bothered to verify who actually owned the titles. His own attorney had requested copies of the property deeds weeks ago, but Mark had brushed it off, claiming he didn\u2019t want to waste time on \u201cadministrative paperwork.\u201d<\/p>\n
To a man like Mark, occupying something for years meant he owned it.<\/p>\n
My phone rang again. This time, I picked up.<\/p>\n
\u201cWhat the hell did you do?!\u201d Mark screamed into the receiver.<\/p>\n
\u201cNothing, Mark.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThe penthouse isn\u2019t in my name!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cIt never was.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen whose name is it in?!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cA real estate holding company owned by my family\u2019s trust.\u201d<\/p>\n
Dead silence on the line.<\/p>\n
\u201cAnd the SUV?\u201d he stammered.<\/p>\n
\u201cIt belongs to the corporate fleet account.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou lied to me for twelve years!\u201d he yelled.<\/p>\n
I watched Sophia and Maya picking out candy at a terminal shop nearby. \u201cI never lied to you, Mark. You just decided it was never worth your time to ask me a single question about my life.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI paid for everything!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYou paid for a fraction of our household groceries.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cElena!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDo you remember all those times you told me I should be grateful because without your money I\u2019d have nothing?\u201d I asked softly.<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t answer.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause I remember every single one of them.\u201d<\/p>\n
His breathing sounded ragged. Then he asked the question that proved he still understood nothing about what had happened: \u201cHow much money do you actually have?\u201d<\/p>\n
I offered a sad, quiet smile. \u201cThat ceased to be any of your business the day you decided my worth depended on how much I needed from you.\u201d<\/p>\n
I hung up the phone.<\/p>\n
Hours later, while our flight crossed the Atlantic, Mark\u2019s world continued to unravel.<\/p>\n
Following the ultrasound, he demanded a private conversation with Chloe in the clinic corridor. Under intense pressure, Chloe broke down and admitted she had continued seeing her ex-boyfriend, an architect named Richard, through early February.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was confused, Mark!\u201d she sobbed.<\/p>\n
Mark stood frozen. \u201cYou told me this was my son.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI thought he was!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cNo. You assured me he was.\u201d<\/p>\n
Outside the room, Teresa heard the entire argument. The woman who had bragged to all her friends about finally getting a grandson sat on a waiting room chair and wept. Patricia, who hours earlier had told me Mark would finally have \u201cthe family he always wanted,\u201d didn\u2019t say a word to defend her brother.<\/p>\n
Mark requested an immediate court-ordered paternity test. Within days, the Vance family structure completely collapsed.<\/p>\n
Patricia even sent me a text message two weeks later:<\/p>\n
Elena, I know you probably hate us, but I need to apologize. What I said in the attorney\u2019s office was cruel. I see now that we treated Sophia and Maya as if they mattered less just because they were girls.<\/p>\n
I read the message twice and chose not to reply. Not to punish her\u2014I simply no longer needed anything from them.<\/p>\n
In Madrid, my daughters and I built a completely new life. My mother welcomed us to a lovely home on the outskirts of the city, near a school where the girls adjusted quickly.<\/p>\n
I returned to work\u2014not as the helpless dependent Mark had imagined, but as the Director of Corporate Strategy for Sterling Logistics\u2019 European division. For years, I had put my career on hold because I wanted to be fully present while my daughters were small. Mark had interpreted my personal sacrifice as an inability to achieve.<\/p>\n
That had been his ultimate mistake.<\/p>\n
Three months later, on a quiet Sunday morning, I was making pancakes while Maya cut strawberries at the counter and Sophia tried to keep our new dog from stealing food off the table.<\/p>\n
Suddenly, Maya looked up at me. \u201cMom, you\u2019re different here.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cDifferent how, sweetie?\u201d<\/p>\n
Sophia answered before she could: \u201cYou sing now.\u201d<\/p>\n
I froze, holding the spatula. \u201cWhat?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cWhen you make breakfast, you sing,\u201d Sophia said softly. \u201cYou never sang in Mexico.\u201d<\/p>\n
A lump formed in my throat. For months, I had wondered if moving them across the world had been too drastic. That morning, I realized something important: children may not fully grasp divorces, infidelity, legal trusts, or corporate assets, but they understand perfectly what it feels like to live inside a sad home.<\/p>\n
A month later, Mark called my cell. His voice had lost every trace of its arrogant confidence.<\/p>\n
\u201cI\u2019d like to fly out to see the girls,\u201d he said quietly.<\/p>\n
\u201cYou\u2019re welcome to,\u201d I replied. \u201cThe court-approved visitation schedule remains in effect.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThank you.\u201d<\/p>\n
An awkward silence stretched over the line.<\/p>\n
\u201cElena\u2026\u201d he murmured, \u201cI made a mistake. With everything. With Chloe. With you. With the girls.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, Mark. You did.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI just thought\u2026 I thought you\u2019d always be there.\u201d<\/p>\n
That sentence hurt more than any insult he had ever thrown at me. Because it revealed the core of our marriage: Mark had never believed I was happy\u2014he had simply believed I would never have the courage to leave.<\/p>\n
\u201cI was there for twelve years, Mark,\u201d I said evenly. \u201cNow you need to focus on rebuilding your relationship with your daughters.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI will.\u201d<\/p>\n
Before hanging up, he hesitated. \u201cDid you\u2026 did you know Chloe\u2019s baby might not be mine?\u201d<\/p>\n
<\/p>\n
\u201cNo.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cThen\u2026 why were you so calm the day we signed the divorce papers?\u201d<\/p>\n
I looked out the kitchen window. Sophia was running across the grass while Maya tried to keep the dog away from the garden beds.<\/p>\n
\u201cBecause it no longer mattered what you did, Mark.\u201d<\/p>\n
He remained silent.<\/p>\n
\u201cThe day I stopped expecting you to change,\u201d I whispered, \u201cwas the day you lost all power over my life.\u201d<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t reply, and I hung up.<\/p>\n
Time passed, and the DNA results eventually confirmed that Mark was not the biological father of Chloe\u2019s baby. Chloe moved back in with her ex-boyfriend. Teresa attempted to reach out to Sophia and Maya again, sending birthday gifts that I permitted the girls to accept. Mark vacated the penthouse, returned the fleet vehicle, and had to adjust to a vastly more modest life than the one he had envisioned when he walked out of the law office believing he had won.<\/p>\n
But his downfall was never my revenge. My victory wasn\u2019t watching him lose a penthouse, a car, or an heir.<\/p>\n
My victory happened on a much quieter afternoon.<\/p>\n
Maya came running in from the garden, her knees covered in dirt. \u201cMom! Sophia says that when she grows up, she wants to run a company just like you!\u201d<\/p>\n
Sophia walked in behind her, blushing. \u201cI didn\u2019t say it exactly like that.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cYes, you did!\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cI said I want to run my own business,\u201d Sophia clarified, looking at me.<\/p>\n
I smiled at them both. \u201cThen you\u2019ll have to work very hard.\u201d<\/p>\n
Sophia lifted her chin proudly. \u201cI will.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maya thought about it for a second. \u201cCan I run one too?\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cOf course you can.\u201d<\/p>\n
\u201cEven though we\u2019re girls?\u201d<\/p>\n
That simple question cut straight through my heart. I knelt down in front of her, taking her small hands in mine.<\/p>\n
\u201cI want you to listen to me very carefully, Maya. Don\u2019t you ever let anyone make you feel that being a girl makes you less capable of anything in this world.\u201d<\/p>\n
Maya beamed, gave me a quick hug, and ran back outside to play.<\/p>\n
Sitting there on the floor, I finally understood the true damage Mark and his family had inflicted over twelve years. It wasn\u2019t just that they wanted a son\u2014it was that they had allowed two brilliant little girls to grow up believing that their presence was somehow a second-place outcome.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t change the past twelve years. But I had absolute power over what their future would look like.<\/p>\n
I closed the glass doors to the garden, listening to the sound of my daughters\u2019 laughter filling the quiet afternoon air.<\/p>\n
Mark had believed that signing those divorce papers was the start of his \u201creal family\u201d because he was getting a son. I had simply taken the hands of the two daughters he left behind and walked away.<\/p>\n
And in time, I proved a truth that no amount of money, family titles, or male heirs could ever buy:<\/p>\n
A house can be lost.<\/p>\n
A marriage can end.<\/p>\n
A fortune can shift hands.<\/p>\n
But no child should ever grow up believing they needed to be born different just to deserve the love of their own family.<\/p>\n","protected":false},"excerpt":{"rendered":"
PART 1 \u201cTake the girls with you. Now that I\u2019m having a son, I want to start a real family.\u201d Those were the first words out of my husband\u2019s mouth … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":37278,"comment_status":"closed","ping_status":"closed","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[3,4,5],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-41667","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-family","category-inspiration","category-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/41667","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=41667"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/41667\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":41669,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/41667\/revisions\/41669"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/37278"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=41667"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=41667"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/readingdairy.com\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=41667"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}