My Son Called His Father’s Mistress “Mom”—Until I Walked Away

Professor Robert was ecstatic to hear my response. “Victoria, is this true? That’s wonderful! You are incredibly talented in this field, and I know your involvement will lead to a breakthrough for our project. I’ll book your flight for next week right away.”

“Thank you, Professor,” I replied before hanging up.

When I stepped back into the courtroom, the judge handed me the divorce agreement and the custody waiver.

I picked up the pen and firmly signed my name.

Just as I handed the paperwork back to the judge, the heavy doors burst open from the outside.

It was Edmund and David.

The moment Edmund saw me, his face darkened, his eyes filling with a poorly concealed disgust.

“Victoria, can you stop being so reckless? Today is Christmas. Why couldn’t you just let David enjoy the holiday in peace?

“David isn’t a toddler anymore. He has every right to choose who he wants to live with. You keep dragging me to court over and over—have you ever stopped to think about how David feels?”

My son, David, hid behind Edmund. His gaze was cold and full of resentment. When his eyes met my questioning look, he spoke without a shred of hesitation.

“I want to live with Dad and Aunt Avery. I hate you.”

A sudden memory flashed through my mind—a video Edmund had sent me. It showed the three of them celebrating Christmas together, laughing and radiating warmth.

Seeing how happy they were only made me look like the wicked witch in a fairy tale.

“This is all your fault,” David snapped. “If it weren’t for you, we’d be unwrapping presents under the Christmas tree right now.”

‘But, David, I bought a present for you, too. We were supposed to be a happy family. Edmund was the one who broke our home, not me. Why did you have to hate your own mother?’ I thought.

“Mom, you’re just an evil witch! Why can’t you leave us alone?

“I don’t like you. I like Avery. I want Avery to be my mom.”

It felt as though a blunt knife had been brutally driven into my chest. A dull, agonizing ache radiated from my heart, spreading to every inch of my body.

In an instant, all the strength was drained from my limbs. The custody battle I had fought for over two years turned into a complete joke.

He was right. I had spent so long fighting for him, yet I had never stopped to ask if David even wanted to be with me.

Perhaps he simply did not want me as his mother at all.

“Fine,” I said softly. “I’ve already signed the custody waiver with the judge. I don’t want you anymore, either.”

David never expected me to abandon him. His eyes instantly welled with tears. “You’re lying! If you didn’t want me, why did you cling to Dad for so long?”

“Victoria, have you actually thought this through?” Edmund interjected, his tone shifting. “Are you really giving up? Don’t you love David more than anything?

“Victoria, you know I don’t actually want a divorce. As long as you behave yourself, we can go right back to how things used to be, okay?”

The way Edmund counterfeited heartache made me physically sick.

“No.”

By the third year of our marriage, Edmund and I had started having non-stop arguments over Avery. We had been tearing each other apart for four long years.

The only reason I had fought so hard for custody was that I remembered how he, as a little boy, had sobbed and begged me not to leave.

But too much time had passed, and everything had changed.

Edmund and David grew resentful, and I grew profoundly exhausted.

I chose to let go—to free them, and to finally free myself.

I slid the divorce agreement over to Edmund.

“Sign it.”