My Husband's Mistress is Our Son's Teacher - Chapter 9: Chapter 9

Let's be honest—Annie wasn't with Ryan for love. She was in it for the money. Naturally, she hatched a plan: hand me full custody of James. If Ryan gave me the kid, she figured I might back off from the financial battle.
Her earlier attempts to win James over weren't about being a loving stepmom. She just wanted to play the sweet, nurturing woman for Ryan—the perfect contrast to the "bitter ex-wife" role they'd cast me in.
If sacrificing James meant protecting the Harris fortune? Annie was game. She'd hit the jackpot.
Ryan hesitated, of course. James was his firstborn, the Harris family's golden grandson. He did care—just not enough. After crunching the numbers, he decided this was the most "cost-effective" solution. So he made me the offer.
The kicker? It never occurred to him I might say no. In Ryan's mind, James was my entire universe. He probably thought all my demands—the houses, the money—were just elaborate bargaining chips for custody.
The old Nicole would've jumped at the offer. But now?
Only an idiot would choose a thankless kid over a fortune.
"James is a Harris," I said icily. "Not a Shaw."
Ryan looked like I'd punched him. "Nicole, he's your son. How can you live with yourself abandoning him?"
"Save the guilt trip. I've done more than enough for him. James should ask himself if he's ever deserved having me as his mother," I countered calmly. Relationships go both ways.
The irony? James had stabbed me in the back. Did he really expect me to keep treating him like my precious baby boy?
"You've lost your damn mind!" Ryan spat before slamming the door.
James soon sensed the tension. One evening, those big innocent eyes found me. "Mom... are you and Dad getting divorced? Please don't. I don't want you to!"
A few months ago, that might've shattered me. Now? It was almost funny.
I smiled faintly. "Didn't you always say you wanted Miss Jo as your new mom? Congratulations—wish granted."
His face went sheet-white. "Mom... I'm sorry... I didn't mean—"
"It's fine," I said breezily. "You'll get a shiny new mom, and I can always make another baby. Fair trade, right?"
"Another baby?" His voice cracked as he clung to me. "No! You said I was your favorite!"
Once, that would've melted me. Now? Just nausea.
This wasn't love—it was panic at losing his VIP status. Classic spoiled brat behavior.
Oh, I believe James wants me to stay.
But not because he loves me. Like father, like son—he's a calculating little pragmatist. He's finally realized keeping me is better than upgrading to stepmom 2.0.
Too bad for him—I'm done being the martyr mom.