CHAPTER FIVE
LATISHA
I found out my son was a cheating bastard the same way the rest of the world did: through a video on Facebook.
My neighbor Denise had sent it to me with three shocked-face emojis and the message: "Latisha, isn't this your Bart???"
I'd been sitting at my kitchen table with my morning coffee, still in my bathrobe, when I clicked the link. The video started playing, and I felt my entire world tilt sideways.
There was my son—my Barthalomew, the boy I'd raised to be respectful and honorable—standing in a conference room looking like he'd been caught with his hand in the cookie jar. And there was Karrie, my sweet daughter-in-law, standing in front of him in a white dress like an angel of vengeance.
"I know exactly what you're in the middle of, Barthalomew," she said, her voice calm and deadly. "Or should I say, who you've been in the middle of?"
My coffee cup froze halfway to my lips.
No. No, he wouldn't. He couldn't have.
But as I watched Karrie pull out her phone and start showing screenshots—messages, photos, evidence of months of infidelity—I felt something break inside my chest.
My son. My boy. The child I'd raised to know better, to be better, had been cheating on his wife while she was home with their babies.
I watched the entire video three times, each viewing making me sicker than the last. I saw the woman—Jennifer, his assistant—flee the room in shame.
I saw Bart's boss fire him on the spot. I saw Karrie systematically destroy my son's life with a precision that would have been impressive if it hadn't been so heartbreaking.
And I saw my son. Desperate. Pathetic. Begging.
Getting exactly what he deserved.
By the third viewing, I wasn't crying anymore. I was furious.
I called him immediately. He didn't answer the first three times, but I kept calling until he finally picked up.
"Mom, I can't talk right now—" His voice was rough, like he'd been crying.
I tried to hear him out a see what he was thinking but I couldn’t he had made unforgivable choices and I couldn’t support him so I told him and I hung up before he could respond.
I sat at my kitchen table for a long time after that, staring at my phone, feeling the weight of what I'd just done.
I'd chosen my daughter-in-law over my son.
But it was the right choice. The only choice.
I'd raised Bart to be better than this. His father—God rest his soul—would have been ashamed. We'd taught him about respect, about honor, about treating women with dignity. And he'd learned nothing.
Or maybe he'd learned it and just didn't care.
Either way, I couldn't support him. Couldn't stand beside him and pretend what he'd done was acceptable.
Karrie deserved better. My grandchildren deserved better.
I picked up my phone and texted Karrie: I just watched what my son did to you. I'm so sorry, Karrie. I'm on your side. Whatever you need.
Her response came quickly: Thank you, Latisha. That means more than you know.
Me: Can I come see the babies? I want to make sure you're all okay.
Karrie: Tomorrow afternoon? I'd love to see you.
Me: I'll be there. And Karrie? You did the right thing. He deserved everything you did to him.
Karrie: Thank you for saying that. I needed to hear it.
I set my phone down and let myself cry. Not for Bart—he'd made his bed and now he had to lie in it. But for Karrie, for those babies, for the family that had been broken by my son's selfishness.
The next afternoon, I drove to the house—the house that had always been Karrie's, funded by her family's money, even though Bart had acted like he'd provided it.
Karrie answered the door with Danika on her hip, and I felt my heart clench. She looked tired but strong, her eyes clear and determined.
"Latisha." She stepped aside to let me in. "Thank you for coming."
"Of course." I reached out and touched Danika's cheek, and the baby smiled at me. "How are you holding up?"
"Better than I expected." She led me to the living room, where Marlow was playing with blocks on the floor. "It helps that I'm angry instead of sad."
"Anger is useful." I sat down on the couch, and Marlow immediately climbed into my lap. "Sadness makes you weak. Anger makes you strong."
She smiled. "That's what I'm learning."
We sat in comfortable silence for a moment, watching the children play. Then Karrie said quietly, "I'm sorry you had to find out that way. I should have called you before—"
"Don't apologize." I shifted Marlow on my lap. "You don't owe me anything. Bart's the one who should be apologizing. To you, to me, to everyone."
"He called me last night." She set Danika down on the floor with her sister. "Begging me to reconsider. Saying he'd change."
"What did you tell him?"
"That it's too late." Her voice was firm. "That he had his chance to be a good husband and father, and he chose to throw it away."
"Good." I reached over and squeezed her hand. "You deserve so much better than what he gave you."
"Your son—"
"My son is a disappointment." The words hurt to say, but they were true. "I raised him to be a good man, and he failed. That's on him, not you."
Karrie's eyes filled with tears. "Thank you. My own parents... they're not being as supportive."
I'd heard about that. The Parsters family was old money, old values. They probably saw divorce as a scandal, regardless of the circumstances.
"Then they're fools." I squeezed her hand again. "You're doing the right thing. Protecting yourself and these babies. That takes courage."
"I'm taking everything," she said quietly. "The house, the money, the cars. The prenup gives me almost everything because of the infidelity clause."
"Good. Take it all." I looked at my grandchildren, playing happily on the floor, oblivious to the chaos around them. "He doesn't deserve any of it. And you're going to need it to raise these babies on your own."
"I won't be completely on my own." A small smile played at her lips. "Summit Wilder has been... very supportive."
I raised an eyebrow. "Bart's boss?"
"Former boss." Her smile widened. "He's been wonderful, actually. Kind and protective and—"
"Good." I cut her off before she could get embarrassed. "You deserve someone who treats you well. Someone who sees your worth."
"It's early," she said quickly. "We're just... seeing where it goes."
"Take your time. But don't feel guilty about moving on." I looked at her seriously. "Bart destroyed your marriage. You don't owe him loyalty anymore."
She nodded, and I could see the relief in her eyes. She'd needed permission, needed someone to tell her it was okay to be happy.
"I'm going to help you," I said. "With the divorce, with the custody case, whatever you need. I'll testify if necessary. I'll tell the judge exactly what kind of father Bart has been."
"You'd do that?"
"In a heartbeat." I looked at Marlow and Danika again. "These babies are my grandchildren. I'm going to make sure they're protected and loved, even if their father can't be bothered."
Karrie started crying then—real tears, the kind that came from relief and gratitude. I pulled her into a hug, careful not to disturb the children, and let her cry on my shoulder.
"You're going to be okay," I murmured. "You're strong and smart and you have people who love you. You're going to get through this."
"Thank you," she whispered. "Thank you for choosing us."
"It wasn't a choice." I pulled back and looked at her. "It was the only right thing to do."
Over the next few weeks, I became Karrie's ally in ways I'd never expected.
I met with her lawyer and provided testimony about Bart's character—or lack thereof. I helped with the children when she had meetings or court dates. I stood beside her when her own parents refused to.
And I watched my son's life crumble from a distance.
He'd moved into a cheap motel. Lost his job. Lost his family. Lost everything that mattered.
Part of me—the mother part—wanted to reach out, to comfort him, to tell him it would be okay.
But the larger part of me, the part that had raised him to be better, knew he needed to face the consequences of his actions.
He called me once, drunk and crying, begging me to talk to Karrie on his behalf.
"She won't listen to me," he'd slurred. "But she'll listen to you. Please, Mom. I love her. I love my kids."
"If you loved them, you wouldn't have cheated." My voice was cold. "If you loved them, you would have thought about them before you stuck your dick in Jennifer."
"I made a mistake—"
"Stop calling it a mistake!" I'd shouted. "Own what you did, Bart. You betrayed your wife. You destroyed your family. You humiliated yourself and everyone who loves you. That's not a mistake. That's a choice."
He'd hung up on me.
I hadn't heard from him since.
Three months after the confrontation, I sat in Karrie's living room—her living room, legally and completely now—and watched my grandchildren play.
Marlow was talking more now, calling me "Gamma" in her sweet little voice. Danika was walking, toddling around the room with determination.
They were happy. Thriving. Loved.
Karrie was different too. Lighter. There was a glow about her that hadn't been there when she was married to Bart. She smiled more. Laughed more.
Summit Wilder had been around more often too. I'd met him a few times—impressive man, clearly smitten with Karrie. The way he looked at her, the way he was with the children, told me everything I needed to know.
He was good for her. Good for them.
"Latisha?" Karrie sat down beside me, handing me a cup of tea. "Thank you for being here. For everything."
"Where else would I be?" I smiled at her. "You're family. These babies are my world."
"I know Bart is your son—"
"Bart made his choices." I sipped my tea. "And I made mine. I chose you and these children. I chose what's right."
She leaned her head on my shoulder, and we sat in comfortable silence, watching Marlow and Danika play.
My son had destroyed his family. But in doing so, he'd shown me who deserved my loyalty.
And it wasn't him.
It was the woman beside me, the babies on the floor, and the future they were building without him.
I'd raised my son to be a good man.
He'd failed.
But I wouldn't fail these children. I wouldn't fail Karrie.
I'd be the family they deserved, even if their father couldn't be.
And that was enough.