He stormed into the room the next morning, disheveled and pale. “Emily,” he said, voice cracking, “what is this?”
I looked him in the eye for the first time since that morning at the airport.
“It’s the truth, Jason. Written down. Filed in court.”
He turned toward my lawyer. “This is insane. You don’t understand—”
“I understand perfectly,” I interrupted. “You had a second life. A second woman. A second child. You don’t get to act confused.”
He slumped into the chair, speechless.
The mediator began the session. Jason offered joint custody. I refused.
“I will not let Mason grow up watching you lie to two families,” I said. “You’ve earned visitation. Supervised.”
Over the next few weeks, his mask fell apart. Marissa found out through her sister and left him. He begged to explain—but I didn’t care. He had already chosen what kind of man he wanted to be.
I didn’t take everything.
