Mommy, Please Divorce Daddy

Noah's watch-phone rang, and he almost threw himself at it.

The name was Serena.

When I called, he ignored me or answered with "yeah," "okay," and "stop bothering me." For Serena, he turned sweet.

"Serena, Daddy came to get me. No, I didn't cry. Mom still hasn't signed, but I'll help you."

Her laugh came through the tiny speaker like silk over a blade.

"My little prince is so good. Ask your daddy if he missed me."

Noah looked up.

Luca's face softened. "I did."

After they left, I sat alone until the soup went cold, then called my lawyer.

"Mr. Grant," I said. "Change the claim. Put custody aside for now. I want every marital asset he moved hidden and recovered."

The next morning, St. Ambrose School called.

"Are you Noah Bellandi's guardian? He is having an allergic reaction with palpitations. Please come immediately."

I grabbed the medicine case and ran out.

When I reached the infirmary, Noah's face was turning blue. I used his epinephrine pen and gave him the backup medication. His new teacher squeezed my hand, shaking.

"Thank God you came, Mrs. Bellandi."

A few children laughed.

"She's not Mrs. Bellandi," a blond boy said. "Noah said she's the nanny."

A girl added, "His real mom is Serena. She's pretty and smart and takes him to polo matches."

My hand froze on Noah's collar.

No wonder I never heard about parent meetings. No wonder every award photo showed Serena beside him.

My own son had erased me from the word mother.

Footsteps sounded at the door. Luca arrived with Serena behind him.

She wore a cream suit, not a hair out of place, carrying a delicate pastry box. She rushed to Noah's bed with perfect tears.

"Baby, you scared me to death."

Noah had barely caught his breath, but he grabbed her hand first. "Serena Mom, I'm okay."

Those words cut deep.

Luca looked at my slippers, messy hair, and the vomit staining my sweater.

"What happened?" he demanded. "You have one job. To care for him. How did you still mess it up?"

"He ate nuts," I said. "Almond chestnut biscotti. I smelled it on his breath."

Serena's fingers twitched.

I looked at her box. "Miss Valenti, what's in there?"

Her eyes reddened at once. "Isabella, I know you hate me, but framing me with a sick child is low."

She opened the box. Only crumbs remained, and a faint almond scent drifted out.

The teacher's face changed.

Serena lowered her voice just enough for everyone to hear. "But Noah ate at that little restaurant with you last night. Some mothers make their children sick just to look pitiful in court."

Luca's eyes turned cold. "Did you?"

I nearly laughed. "Noah didn't eat a bite. I checked every ingredient. There were no nuts."

Serena lowered her head and pressed one finger against Noah's hand.

I saw it.

Noah immediately struggled to speak.

"It wasn't Serena Mom. It was her. She tried to make me eat cheap pasta. Daddy, she wants to hurt me. Make her leave."

I looked at my son, pale and trembling on that bed, staring at me as if I were the criminal.

Luca gripped my wrist so hard my bones hurt.

"Isabella, you fought me for custody for five years. I thought you at least loved him. Turns out he was just another trick to get my attention."

I looked into his eyes. For years, I believed if I endured long enough, Noah would understand. Luca would see. Someone would know I'd loved them until almost nothing was left.

At that moment, I was just tired.

I pulled my wrist free, inch by inch.

"Fine," I said.

Luca frowned. "What?"

I looked at Noah, then at Serena.

"I won't fight for custody anymore."

"Luca Bellandi, I agree to the divorce."

I pointed at him, then at Noah.

"Starting today, I don't want the Don of the Bellandi family, and I don't want your little prince either."