When my son-in-law asked for a divorce, he looked at my daughter and said, “I want the house, the cars, the bank account… except our son,” and while his lawyer smiled as if he had already won, mine begged me to fight, but I just clutched the purse where I carried a document he had forgotten years ago, and told my daughter, “Give him everything.”

It was not a shout and it was not a scene because what happened in that courtroom was significantly worse than a public outburst. Garrett had spent the entire hearing with the insolent calm of a man who believed he had calculated every move down to the last detail.

Sitting next to his attorney in a tailored suit and a neatly trimmed beard, he looked at my daughter like a man staring at a property he had already purchased. He was simply waiting for the moment the keys would be handed over so he could begin his new life without any obstacles.

I want the house, the cars, and every cent in the bank accounts, but I do not want our son, he had stated those words days earlier without the slightest crack in his voice. I still remember the broken sound Mallory made when she tried to breathe after hearing that cruel demand.

It was not a sob but something much smaller and more painful as if a part of her soul had finally realized the man she loved for eight years was tearing her apart. My daughter had truly loved him back when he showed up with nothing but cheap flowers and big promises.