Five minutes after signing the divorce papers, I walked out of the courthouse with nothing but my son.
Behind me, my ex-husband, his mistress, and her family were already celebrating their “new beginning”… until his phone rang.
I carried a single duffel bag. My seven-year-old son walked beside me, his small hand gripping mine. The silence between us felt heavy, almost suffocating.
Grant Holloway — my ex — didn’t even look at me when the clerk finalized everything. His eyes were locked on the blonde woman by the window.
Sabrina.
The same “coworker” he had sworn for months was nothing.
Her mother stood nearby, calmly adjusting her pearls, looking completely satisfied… as if everything had finally fallen into place.
Owen squeezed my hand tighter. He was wearing a red hoodie and worn-out sneakers. We hadn’t even had time to pack properly.
Leave a Comment