My Son Picked His Father's Mistress

"Lucas, the three-legged race is for parents and kids together." I reached out my hand to my son. "Mom's pretty fast—we might even win first place."

My six-year-old looked up at me.

He had light blond hair, a straight little nose, and wore a tiny polo shirt with the school crest.

But the way he looked at me wasn't friendly at all. In fact, it was full of resentment.

"I don't want to be with you." Lucas's voice wasn't loud, but everyone nearby heard him clearly. "I can run by myself."

I stayed in a half-squat, my fingers pausing in midair.

The teacher looked a little surprised, then shook her head gently. "Lucas, this is a family sports day. It's more fun if you do this game with your mom. Look at all the other kids—"

"I'd rather be alone than with her." He frowned, stubborn and indignant. "I'd rather not race at all."

Her.

He wouldn't even call me mom.

I took a breath, pushing down the ache in my chest.

The teacher tried to coax him, "Lucas, if something's wrong, you can talk to us. We'll work it out together."

"Dad loves me the most. Vivienne loves me, too." He stared at me. "She's the only one who doesn't. She just yells at me and makes everyone unhappy!"

The other parents couldn't help but look over.

The teacher forced a smile. "Lucas, sweetie, you shouldn't say things like that. All moms love their kids."

"I'm telling the truth." He lifted his chin, glaring at me. "You're the worst mom in the whole world!"

Looking at Lucas's serious little face, I could only step back from the race.

His teacher suggested I try communicating with him more, and talk things out to avoid misunderstandings.

Misunderstandings?

I gave a bitter smile. No, there's no misunderstanding. He just hates me.

After the sports day, I planned to take Lucas out for a slice of cake.

I'd just gotten paid from my part-time job, so I could splurge a little on a treat and maybe have a good talk with him.

But Lucas was nowhere to be found.

I searched for a long time before I finally spotted him by a black bench. Elliot was half-sitting on the backrest, his sleeves rolled up, his watch glinting in the sun.

Lucas sat on his lap, holding a giant cup of ice cream, his mouth smeared with it.

He was beaming. "Dad's the best. He takes me out for treats. Not like that woman—she never lets me have anything. She always says there's not enough money, but I know she just doesn't want to be nice to me. Only Dad and Vivienne treat me right."

Elliot looked up and saw me, frowning in disappointment. "Nora, do you really think you can take care of Lucas? I don't get why you're fighting me for custody. You can't give him a good life."

He paused, then added, "But I'll give you a chance. We can get remarried—but you need to change your attitude. No more of how you used to be."

Vivienne smiled sweetly. "Nora, you're in the wrong here. You know how much Elliot loves Lucas. How could you mistreat him? And look at those clothes—who knows if they're even new."

Lucas jumped in, indignant. "Yeah! Every time I wear those clothes, I get itchy and almost break out. You can't even buy me decent clothes. You're the worst mom ever."

Elliot stayed silent.

He just watched, as if everything happening proved his point.

For the first time since seeing Elliot, I unclenched my fists.

All the exhaustion, all the stubbornness faded away.

"Fine."

Elliot looked stunned. "What did you say?"

"I said you can have custody. Let's sign the papers as soon as possible. You three can finally be a happy family. I wish you all the best."

A cold wind blew. Lucas and Vivienne both looked delighted. Maybe worried I'd change my mind, Lucas pushed, "Dad, hurry up and sign! I don't want to stay with her for even a second longer."

Elliot didn't look pleased. He just stared at me, annoyed.

"What's that supposed to mean? You'd rather give up custody than admit you were wrong and beg me to take you back?"

Vivienne put on her gentle, magnanimous act. "We just want Lucas to have a stable home, Nora. If you're willing to work on yourself, Elliot will give you a chance."

I didn't answer. I didn't know what to say.

"Lucas still has some stuff at my place. Let's get it all now, so we don't have to see each other again."

In the most prominent spot in the parking lot sat that familiar black Rolls-Royce.

I walked to the passenger door, but Vivienne stepped in front of me.

She smiled, polite but awkward. "Sorry, Nora, the car's a bit full."

I looked at her.

She shrugged. "You could walk. It's healthier, anyway."

She said it like it was the most normal thing in the world.

Elliot said nothing, silently agreeing.

Soon, the engine roared to life behind me.

The driver pulled the car up, not passing me, not falling behind—just following, like an invisible leash.

And I was the pet being led along.

People started to notice.

"That car's been following her for a while."

"Is this some rich guy's way of flirting?"

"I don't know. Maybe we should ask?"

Behind me, Lucas rolled down the window, impatient. "Dad, tell her to walk faster. She's so slow."

Vivienne laughed. "Yeah, Nora, if you go any slower, we'll look like circus animals."

But I knew better than anyone.

This wasn't some grand romantic gesture.

This was just his latest way of making me suffer.