No wonder the Cannons called me “gutter trash.” To them, I truly was no different from the endless parade of
ght home.
women
George brou-
I wiped my tears and thanked the kind lawyer. If we were never married, then separating was simple.
But there was still Leo.
Leo, my son with George, was five years old now. The delivery had been brutal–I’d hemorrhaged and nearly died on the operating table. Through a haze of pain, I heard the doctor ask George a cold, clinical question: save the mother or save the child?
George didn’t hesitate. “Save the child.”
His icy words shocked me back to full consciousness. Elara, you can’t die, I told myself. Leo can’t be without a mother. That single thought pulled me back from the brink. You could say Leò was the most important reason I had to live.
But less than two days after he was born, George’s mother had swept in and taken him away.
“We’re doing this for his own good, Elara,” she had said, her voice dripping with condescension. “Don’t forget, you’re just a nobody who clawed her way out of a backwater town. A child raised by you will be looked down upon, just like you are.”
Though it shattered my heart, I endured it, believing it was for Leo’s own good. But I woke up countless nights from nightmares, clutching the clothes and toys I’d bought for him, sobbing until I couldn’t breathe. Occasionally, George, woken by my crying, would send me a short video of Leo. I survived three years on those digital crumbs.
It was only after I threatened divorce again that his mother finally relented, allowing me to see Leo once a week.
Today was our scheduled day.
I arrived at the Cannon estate, but the house was silent, I stood at the gate and called for over ten minutes, but no one came, In seven years as ‘Mrs. Cannon,” 1 had never been given a key to the family home.
A passing servant took pity on me. “Mr. Cannon took Leo out early this morning, ma’am.”
A bitter smile touched my lips. This was George’s punishment. For years, any small act of disobedience was met with this: he wou
Id deny me access to our son. And every time, I would be forced to swallow my pride and beg for the right to see my own child.
For Leo’s sake, I took a deep breath and called George’s phone,
“Hello? Mommy!”
It was Leo. The sound of his small, familiar voice made my eyes sting, my heart melting. This was my boy
11.55 0
Chapter 2
“Leo, sweetie, when are you coming back? Mommy misses you.”
The background was noisy, like an amusement park. But I still heard his next words with perfect, chilling clarity.
“But I don’t want to see Mommy.”
The tears froze in my eyes. “Leo, what did you say?” I asked, my voice trembling.
His voice, as crisp and cold as his father’s, struck me like a physical blow. “I said, I don’t want to see Mommy.”
My hand tightened on the phone. “I know you’re having fun right now, sweetie. You play, and then you can come see Mommy later,
okay? No matter how long it takes, Mommy will wait for you.”
He didn’t hesitate. His cruelty was a perfect echo of George’s. “No. Daddy said you made him angry. You’re
doesn’t want to see you. Don’t call me anymore. Leo doesn’t like you!”
The line went dead. My heart went with it.
So, it was true. My son was just like his father. He didn’t love me.
Fine. At least now, I could leave without any lingering attachments.
a bad mommy Leo
Back at the hotel, I booked a flight home for the next day. Before bed, I scrolled through my social media feed and saw a new post
from George. It was a photo of the three of them at the amusement park–him, Leo, and the young woman from the wedding. My
son was nestled in his father’s arms, happily sharing a three–scoop ice cream cone with the girl.
The caption read: Looks like my son wants a new mommy.
The post had zero likes. I knew what that meant. He had set the privacy so only I could see it. It was his signature move. Whenever we fought, he would post something with Leo, a clear warning for me to back down for our child’s sake. And every time, I would do exactly as he wished, placing my dignity at his feet for him to trample. He’d had me perfectly trapped from the moment I gave
birth.
But not anymore.
