ge would sway both the kids and the judge. But everything changed when our daughter revealed what she’d overheard him planning for her and her little brother. The courtroom fell silent.
I’m 35, and this custody battle has been the hardest fight of my life. Two years ago, I discovered Daniel’s affair—the late nights at “work,” the lipstick stains he claimed were ketchup. Leaving meant giving up financial stability, but I finally walked away with Emily, then eight, and Jack, just five.
Starting over in a cramped apartment was brutal. My mornings began at dawn with lunches, school runs, and traffic before work. Evenings were homework and bedtime routines. Weekends were errands, doctor visits, and PTA meetings—all on my dime.
Meanwhile, Daniel played the “fun dad.” He showed up once a month with trips to Disneyland and piles of gifts, then disappeared again. He didn’t care about grades, health, or bills—just the image of being the #BestDadEver.
But behind that image, my kids knew the truth—and so did the court.
