Mom, Don't Cry! Here comes a new Daddy!

Chapter 5

(Sabrina’s POV)

The next morning comes too fast.

I barely sleep, my mind spinning with worst-case scenarios. By six a.m., I give up and slip out of bed, careful not to wake Jake. He looks so peaceful, his dark lashes fanned against his cheeks. The sight brings a smile to my face.

In Sophia's kitchen, I find her already awake, dressed in a power suit that probably costs more than my monthly rent—Dustin's rent—and talking rapid-fire into her phone.

"I don't care if he's in court all week, reschedule everything. This is an emergency." She spots me and holds up a finger. "Yes, Richard. I need you. Today if possible. My best friend's piece of s**t husband is trying to steal her kid... Yes, that urgent... Perfect. We'll be there at ten."

She hangs up and immediately pours me a cup of coffee so dark it looks like motor oil.

"Drink. You look like death."

"Thanks," I mutter, but I take the cup gratefully. The first sip nearly strips the enamel off my teeth, but the caffeine hit is immediate. "You didn't have to do all this."

"Yes, I did. You're family, Sabrina. And family doesn't let family get destroyed by cheating bastards and their mistresses." She leans against the counter, studying me over her own cup. "How are you feeling?"

"Like I'm about to walk into a war zone."

"Good. Because you are." She sets down her cup, her expression turning serious. "Jessica's going to try to humiliate you today. She'll try to make things difficult for you, create reasons for her to fire you, to make you look bad.”

“She can try.” I sneer.

“That’s the attitude.” She nods approvingly. “You're going to walk in there with your head high and clean out your desk with dignity. No matter how they provoke you, don’t react. Let them think they've won. Then, when we're ready, we're going to take them by storm and destroy them to the point where they’ll never be able to pick themselves up again."

The vindictiveness in her tone is oddly comforting. I wonder if that makes me a vengeful b***h.

But then, so what if it does? It’s not like I care about what other people think of me.

“Now go and get ready. We have a battle to wage.”

“But…I have a presentation today.” I say, recalling the campaign I’ve been working on the past few days.

Though I hate Dustin and Jessica, I don’t want my grudge against them to affect my work. After all, I take pride in my professionalism.

"Not anymore. I called Sterling & Co. last night and told them you needed time off." She holds up a hand before I can protest. "I know, I know. But trust me. Walking in there unprepared would be worse. This way, you're in control. The higher-ups know you won’t be at work. So when you walk in? You decide when to leave, what to take, what to say."

She's right. Of course she's right. Sophia didn't build a cosmetics empire by being soft or unprepared.

"Okay," I say finally. "Okay. I can see you have everything already figured out. What’s the plan?"

"First, you get dressed. I laid out one of my suits in the guest room—we're about the same size. Then, we take Jake to school. Normal routine. Then, we meet with Richard and start building your case. And this afternoon, when you're ready, we go to Sterling & Co. and you walk out of there like the queen you are."

It sounds simple when she says it like that. Get dressed. Drop off Jake. Meet the lawyer. Quit my job.

But nothing about this is simple.

Still, I nod. Because what else can you do when you have a best friend ready to fight your war before you even get yourself together?

You nod and go along with her plans. Because at the end of the day? The ones who’ll suffer from the consequences of her actions won’t be me.

Oh yeah, I’m so going to enjoy this.

By eight-thirty, I'm dressed in another of Sophia's power suit—sharp black with a silk blouse that probably costs more than my entire wardrobe.

It’s tailored to my figure and makes me look more intimidating than I feel.

My hair is pulled back tight, severe. Not a single smudge of emotion is allowed to show on my face. I look like a storm waiting to hit, and this is exactly the look she’s going for.

When I come downstairs again, Jake is happily eating pancakes at the kitchen island, chattering about his plans to paint a new masterpiece today.

"Ready?" Sophia asks, jingling her car keys.

"Full on power mode.” I nod. “Let’s do this."

The drive to Jake's preschool is quiet. He sings along to the radio in the backseat, happier than…usual?

That can’t be right.

He knows his dad and I are having a fight. Though he said he’s going to live with me, he’s still a kid. Shouldn’t he be upset that he won’t be able to live with his dad anymore?

I watch him in the rearview mirror, memorizing every detail—the way his nose scrunches when he hits a high note, the gap where he lost his first tooth last month, the pure joy on his face.

And that’s when it hits me. His happiness.

It isn’t fake.

He really isn’t upset at the fact that he won’t be able to live with his dad anymore.

I can’t help but wonder if Dustin is that much of a failure a father or if there is something I’m missing?

When we pull up to Little Learners Academy, Jake bounds out of the car, his backpack nearly as big as he is.

"Bye, Mom! Bye, Aunt Sophia! Love you!"

"Love you too, baby!"

I watch until he disappears through the bright blue doors, then turn to Sophia.

"What if this is the last normal day he has?"

"Then we make sure every day after is even better." She pulls back into traffic. "Now, let's go see Richard and start planning how to make Dustin regret ever crossing you."

Richard Hill’s office is in a glass tower downtown, all marble and mahogany and the kind of quiet wealth that whispers rather than shouts. His receptionist—a stern woman with silver hair and a no-nonsense expression—ushers us into a conference room with a view of the entire city.

Richard himself is exactly as I remember from Sophia's divorce five years ago: mid-fifties, impeccably dressed, with sharp eyes that miss nothing.

"Sabrina." He shakes my hand firmly. "I wish we were meeting under better circumstances."

"Me too."

We sit, and for the next hour, I tell him everything. The affair. The pre-nup agreement. Dustin's demand for custody. Jessica's promise to fire me. The house that's only in Dustin's name. Every humiliating, painful detail.

Richard takes notes on a legal pad, his expression never changing. When I finish, he sits back and steeples his fingers.

"Here's the reality," he says bluntly. "Custody cases are unpredictable, especially when both parents are fit. But you have several advantages. You're the primary caregiver. You have documentation of Jake's school involvement, medical appointments, daily care. Dustin's affair, while morally reprehensible, won't factor into custody unless we can prove it affects Jake's wellbeing."

"So what do we do?"

"We build a case that shows you're the stable parent. We document everything—every interaction with Dustin, every threat from Jessica, every attempt they make to undermine you. And we prepare for a fight." He leans forward. "I won't lie to you, Sabrina. This could get ugly. Dustin has resources, and if he's willing to use them, he could drag this out for months."

"I don't care." My voice is steady. "I'll do whatever it takes."

"Perfect. The good news is, because of the pre-nup agreement you two signed, you can make him leave with nothing after the divorce. Which will strengthen your custody case."

By the time we leave Richard's office, it's after noon. My head is spinning with legal terms and strategies and worst-case scenarios, but I also feel something I haven't felt since yesterday.

Rage.

Small, barely simmering beneath my calm facade, but still there.

"Ready to go clean out your desk?" Sophia asks as we head to her car.

I think about walking into Sterling & Co., facing Jessica and Dustin. The humiliation. The whispers.

I also think about Jake's painting: Mom is strong like a dinosaur.

And grin. “You bet I am.”