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She tried to take him. My son. My life. Every fiber of my being screamed NO. The thought of a future without his laughter echoing through the house, his small hand in mine – it was a void I couldn’t comprehend. I wouldn’t allow it. Her biggest mistake was underestimating me. She thought she knew me, thought I’d crumble. She was wrong.
It started subtly, insidious whispers. He’d be better off with me. You’re too busy. He deserves a stable home. Then it escalated. Lawyers. Court dates. Formal petitions. She wanted full custody, wanted to cut me out, leave me with supervised visits, a phantom father. The very idea made my stomach churn with a sickening blend of fear and pure, unadulterated rage. I loved him with a ferocity that defied explanation. He was my world, my purpose.
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