My Husband Tried to Leave Me with Nothing But Our Son Had Other Plans

During the divorce, my soon-to-be ex-husband decided to fight me for custody of our son.
He said it with the kind of smug confidence that made my teeth ache.
Why don't we just ask him what he wants?
Alex, clutching his phone, gave me a calm, appraising look from across the living room. You guys are really doing this?
"Yes," I nodded, my throat tight.
"Fine," he said, his eyes dropping back to the game on his screen. "I'll go with Mom. And you should probably give her a bigger settlement. Otherwise, I'm not sure she can afford me."
1
A moment later, Alex was dragged into the study by his father.
My heart hammered against my ribs. I started to follow, but the door slammed shut in my face with a deafening crack.
Mark's furious voice seeped through the wood. "Alex, I'm going to ask you one more time. You're sure you want to go with your mother? Don't say I didn't warn you. She's a housewife. Do you honestly think she knows how to take care of you?"
Alex's voice, in contrast, was infuriatingly casual. "Dad, it doesn't really matter to me who I live with. The thing is, Nicole is pregnant with my new little brother. If I stick around, I'm just worried I'll stress her out."
The mention of his own ugly secret, laid bare by his son, seemed to silence even a man as shameless as Mark.
The voices inside dropped to a low murmur.
I couldn't make out the words anymore. All I could feel was a damp heat spreading across my cheeks. I swiped at my face, but the tears just came faster, blurring the expensive, sterile living room I had decorated. I sank onto the sofa, the plush cushions offering no comfort, and finally buried my face in my hands.
I don’t know how long I sat there, but eventually, the study door opened again.
Mark walked over and stood before me. Seeing me hunched over, sobbing, a flicker of something—maybe pity, maybe guilt—crossed his face. He offered me a tissue from the box on the coffee table.
"Alex can stay with you," he said softly.
I lifted my tear-streaked face to look at him.
"You can have the house, the car, and I'll give you five hundred thousand. If you agree to that, we can go to the courthouse and file the papers tomorrow."
I stared at him, numb. I was the one who had screamed for a divorce, but now that it was here, I had no idea how to navigate it. I felt utterly lost.
"She probably shouldn't get the car," Alex said suddenly, emerging from the study.
A bitter smile touched my lips. Of course. Blood is thicker than water. In the end, he would always side with his father.
"Mom's driving?" Alex continued, a smirk in his voice. "Let's be real. It's a waste if she doesn't drive it, and a public menace if she does. Better to just cash it out. That SUV is worth at least seventy, eighty grand. Let’s call it an even million for the house and assets. I think that's more than fair."
Mark’s gaze on his son was heavy, intense.
Alex just shrugged, completely unbothered.
Mark looked away. "Fine. We'll do it that way. I'll see you at the courthouse at nine tomorrow morning."
2
The front door clicked shut.
With that sound, a part of my heart seemed to shrivel and die. Mark was walking out that door, and this time, he might never come back.
We’d met in college. Our love had been the young, earnest kind—the kind you believe is pure and indestructible. I truly thought we would grow old together. I couldn't pinpoint the exact moment it all started to fracture, how we ended up in this wasteland.
"Mom."
Alex's voice pulled me from my spiral of grief.
"I'm starving. Did you make dinner?"
I scrambled to my feet, wiping the last of the tears from my face. "I'll go to the grocery store right now."
A note of theatrical complaint entered his tone. "Mom, you're about to be a millionaire. Can't you at least spring for some BBQ?"
I took Alex to the smokehouse restaurant downstairs. He expertly wrapped a piece of glistening brisket in a lettuce leaf and handed it to me.
"Mom, this is an all-you-can-eat buffet. You gotta eat more to get your money's worth."
"Oh. Right," I said, taking it from him. It tasted like ash in my mouth, and I could barely swallow.
My mind drifted to all the articles I’d read online, the ones about how divorce psychologically scars children for life.
I chose my words carefully. "Son, even though your father and I are getting a divorce, he's still your dad. It's okay for me to hate him, but you don't have to."
"I don't hate him," he said, flipping a chicken wing on the grill. "And you should stop, too. Hating someone is exhausting."
He sat across from me, his face partially obscured by the rising steam, and for a moment, I felt like I couldn't see my son at all.
3
The next morning, I was sitting on the edge of my bed, staring into space, when a knock came at my door.
"Mom, it's time. Let's go."
I jolted, pulled back to reality. Why did he seem even more eager for this divorce than his father?
I opened the door and looked at him, a suspicion blooming in my chest. "Why aren't you getting ready for school?"
He gave me a complicated look. "Mom, it's July first. Summer vacation started."
I had been in such a fog for the past month that I had completely forgotten. A wave of guilt washed over me, and I reached out to straighten the collar of his shirt.
"I'm so sorry, sweetie."
He tilted his head and smiled. "If you really feel guilty, you can take me on a trip. We could go to the beach. Scuba diving, fresh seafood... the works." He made a "V" for victory sign with his fingers.
"Deal," I said, a real smile finally breaking through. The heavy gloom in my heart seemed to lift, just a little.
Nicole came with Mark to the courthouse.
We weren't even officially divorced, and she was already so impatient to claim her new role.
Alex greeted her without missing a beat. "Hey, Nicole. It’s pretty hot for you to be running around like this. You should be careful you don't melt my little brother."
"You—" Nicole shot him a glare, turning to Mark for backup.
Alex quickly feigned innocence. "Dad, I didn't mean anything by it. It's a hundred degrees out here. I'm genuinely worried about the baby."
Mark’s face was a stony mask. He turned to Nicole. "Why don't you wait in the car? There's no need for you to come inside."
4
We submitted the divorce application.
Next came the mandatory one-month cooling-off period.
As we left the courthouse, Mark pulled up to the curb and called out to us. "Let me give you a ride home."
I was about to refuse, but Alex darted forward and yanked open the car door. "Come on, Mom. I'm dying out here."
I had no choice but to get in.
We sat in the back, while Nicole occupied her new place in the passenger seat. She tugged on Mark's arm, her voice dripping with sugar. "Honey, where should we go to celebrate later?"
Alex leaned forward between the front seats. "Hey, Nicole, you guys should go to Giovanni's. Dad loves that place. He used to take Mom and me there anytime we had something to celebrate."
In the rearview mirror, I saw Nicole's face fall. It wasn't very charitable of me, but I felt a small, sharp thrill of satisfaction.
Alex leaned back, but he wasn't done. "So, Mom, where should we go for our trip? Maybe not the beach. How about New Orleans? They say it's the place to go for a whirlwind romance. Who knows, maybe I can find myself a new dad."
Mark's expression soured. "You're planning a trip?" he asked, his eyes finding mine in the mirror.
"Yes," I said, not wanting to talk to him. I turned to look out the window.
"A change of scenery would probably do you good," he said, as if to himself. "But New Orleans is overrated. You should go to the Florida Keys. I have a friend who just opened a hotel in Islamorada."
Alex popped his head forward again. "Seriously, Dad? Think he'd give us a friends-and-family rate? With our resemblance, your buddy would probably recognize me on sight, right?"
Mark actually smiled, taking a hand off the wheel to ruffle Alex's hair. "You're my son. Of course, it's not a problem."
The two of them shared a warm father-son moment, completely oblivious to Nicole, whose face was now as dark as a thundercloud.
5
In the end, Alex and I went to the Keys.
As he put it, "Never turn down a freebie. It's just bad manners."
He was buzzing with excitement, having prepared a three-page, color-coded itinerary. Not wanting to be the mom who ruins all the fun, I forced myself to match his energy. A thirteen-year-old boy runs on a limitless supply of it. I spent my days parasailing, jet-skiing, and snorkeling with him, and my nights combing the beach for ghost crabs under the moonlight.
By the end of each day, my body ached so much I felt like my bones were about to fall apart. I would collapse into bed and fall asleep instantly, too exhausted to even feel the sting of my broken marriage.
When we got back from Florida, I was hoping for a few days of rest. But Alex had other plans. He started critiquing my cooking.
"Mom, it's not that your food is bad, exactly... it's just that there's a certain... lack of variety."
I shot him a sideways glance. "You've been eating my cooking for thirteen years, and you're choosing now to complain?"
He scratched his head and grinned sheepishly. "It's not a complaint, just an observation. I'm a growing boy. If you switched things up a bit, I bet I could hit six-foot-two, easy."
"Get out of here," I said, swatting his cheek playfully. I couldn't help but laugh.
Over the past few weeks, I had finally figured it out. All of this—the trip, the critiques, the constant motion—was his way of keeping me busy. He was deliberately exhausting me so I wouldn't have time to be sad.
My judgment in husbands may have been terrible, but I had raised a true gem of a son.
What was there left to be sad about?
6
I decided it was time to get a job.
Mark had promised me the settlement and monthly child support, but a million dollars isn't what it used to be. Alex's tutoring alone cost nearly twenty thousand a year, not to mention all our other daily expenses. If I just sat back and lived off the savings, it wouldn't be long before we were in trouble.
After more than a decade as a stay-at-home mom, my professional skills were practically non-existent. I figured I should start with something simple and accessible, build up some experience, and then look for something better.
I brought the idea up with Alex. If I was going to be working, I wouldn't be around as much to take care of him.
He thought for a moment. "I totally support you going back to work, Mom. But looking for a job is like dating. You have to be strategic."
His little-adult tone made me laugh. I couldn't resist teasing him. "Oh, really? And how many girlfriends have you had that you're such an expert?"
He replied with unshakable logic. "Just think about it. If you rush into something mediocre just to have something, what happens when a better opportunity comes along? Do you break up with the old job, or do you just stay miserable?"
I considered it. He had a point. Juggling a job you don't like while trying to interview for a new one would be a nightmare.
"So, finding a job isn't the urgent thing," Alex continued, leading me along. "But there is something else that is."
"What's that?" I asked.
"Canceling my tutors."
"Absolutely not!" I shut him down immediately.
"Mom!" he wailed. "Three different subjects a day? I'm your son, not a workhorse!"
7
After a period of intense but friendly negotiation, we agreed to cancel the writing and math tutors. We would keep the computer programming class for now, with the possibility of re-evaluating if his grades improved.
"All hail the queen!" Alex cheered, running two victory laps around me before voluntarily sitting down to do a set of math problems.
Our life was slowly finding its new rhythm.
One day, I was browsing a shopping link my best friend, Jenna, had sent me. Alex came over and peered at my laptop screen for a long time.
"Does Aunt Jenna actually make money doing this?" he asked.
"She does pretty well," I said absently, entering my credit card information.
He tugged on my arm, his eyes shining. "Mom, I think you'd be amazing at this."
A spark ignited in my mind. Jenna always had a knack for spotting the next big thing. She’d made a small fortune in e-commerce years ago and had recently pivoted to a new social commerce platform. It didn't have a huge user base yet, but it was incredibly user-friendly, with flexible marketing tools. The growth potential was obvious.
Most importantly, it had a one-click fulfillment feature, which meant I wouldn't have to handle any inventory myself. It was perfect for a beginner like me.
"You know what? I'll call Jenna and get the details."
If my years as a homemaker had given me one superpower, it was the art of procurement. I'm picky. I don't just look at the price; I demand quality. I was the kind of person who would compare ten different brands and read a hundred reviews before buying a toaster. All my friends came to me for recommendations.
As Alex said, a platform like this was practically made for me.
With Jenna's help, I had my online shop up and running in no time. I was strict about quality control, personally testing every product before I listed it. So, while I wasn't making a fortune, I quickly built a loyal customer base.
Just like that, the month was almost over.
And then, Mark showed up at my door.
He told me he wanted to withdraw the divorce application.

First, search for and download the MotoNovel app from Google. Then, open the app and use the code "257367" to read the entire book.