I held him close and cried, and in that moment, everything hit me—not the house, not the money.
My son.
“I’m so sorry you have to go through this,” I whispered.
“Don’t worry, Mom. I won’t let him hurt you,” my little boy whispered.
I swallowed hard.
Howard was only 10. There was nothing he could really do.
Still, I held him tighter, trying to comfort him, though deep down I knew it would take a miracle to save me.
The next morning, the hearing began.
Aidan was already there—calm, confident, like he had already won.
His lawyer stood beside him, flipping through a folder.
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