The day after I caught my husband cheating with his co-worker, he packed his things with a smirk and snarled,
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> “I’m taking the *dog* — *you’ve* got the *kid*.”
> His mother, standing in the doorway with her arms crossed, cackled and added,
> “Well, at least the *dog* is trained.”
That was the moment something inside me snapped.
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So I filed for divorce. And I didn’t just file — I went for *full* custody of our 7-year-old son, Mark.
The day of the hearing, we were all seated in the courtroom — my husband looking far too confident with his expensive lawyer, his mother wearing widow-black like *she* was the victim. I sat beside Mark, holding his tiny hand while the judge went over paperwork.
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That’s when Mark suddenly raised his hand.
The entire courtroom paused.
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“Yes, young man?” the judge said gently.
Mark stood up and swallowed hard. “Can… can I read what Dad sent me *yesterday*?”
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My husband’s face drained of color. His lawyer leaned in and hissed something urgent. The judge banged his gavel. “Order in the court. If the child has evidence, I’ll allow it.”
Mark pulled a crumpled piece of paper from his pocket — he had *written down* the message just so he wouldn’t forget.
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In a clear, shaky voice, he read:
> “Hey buddy. Just tell the judge you want to stay with Mom *for now* so she gets comfortable. I only want the dog anyway. Once I’m done traveling with Cindy, I’ll come back for you. Pretend you miss her and get her to drop the custody thing. Be a smart boy and I’ll buy you that PlayStation.”
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The room went *dead silent.*
My ex shot to his feet — “That’s not true! I never— that’s—”
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“Sit. Down,” the judge thundered, his voice echoing off the walls. He turned to my son and softened. “Thank you for being honest, Mark.”
He then took off his glasses, turned to my husband with utter disgust, and said,
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> “I have heard enough. Full custody awarded to the mother. Visitation to be supervised **only** — and contingent on mandatory parenting classes.”
My husband’s jaw fell open. His mother shrieked something about “family bias,” but the judge had already moved on.
I wrapped my arms around Mark as tears of relief poured down my cheeks.
When we walked out of that courtroom, we didn’t just walk out with custody papers.
We walked out with *freedom*.
And as for the dog?
He sleeps curled up next to Mark every single night — *right where he belongs.*