Howard looked up. “Mom?”
I quickly wiped my tears. “Nothing, sweetheart.”
But children always know.
That night, after he fell asleep, I sat alone in the kitchen staring at unpaid bills. The bakery was barely surviving. I had almost nothing left after paying Aidan’s debt.
Meanwhile, Aidan hired the most expensive divorce attorney in the state.
Everyone knew his lawyer. Richard Holloway.
People called him “the closer” because he destroyed opponents in court.
I couldn’t afford someone remotely close to that level.
My attorney, Linda, was kind but honest.
“Claire,” she said gently during our meeting, “this is going to get ugly.”
“I don’t care about the money,” I whispered. “I just can’t lose my son.”
Linda hesitated.
Then she quietly slid a document toward me.
Aidan was claiming I was financially unstable and emotionally unfit to parent Howard.
“He’s building a narrative,” she explained carefully. “He’s arguing that you made reckless financial decisions.”
I stared at her in disbelief.
“Reckless? I paid HIS debt!”
“I know.”
“But he asked me to!”
“I know.”
I buried my face in my hands.
For weeks, the nightmare only got worse.
Aidan suddenly became “Father of the Year” online. Photos of him taking Howard for ice cream. Posts about “protecting his son during difficult times.”
Meanwhile, his lawyer painted me as unstable, emotional, and irresponsible.
And little by little, I started feeling myself breaking.
Only Howard kept me going.
Every morning, he hugged me before school and whispered, “We’ll be okay, Mom.”
I didn’t know if it was true.
But hearing him say it helped me survive.
