They’d forgotten Max’s birthdays and skipped holidays, but now claimed he needed “stability.” Diane touched my arm like we were close and said, “You’re still a kid. Max needs a real home.” The next day, they filed for custody.

I dropped out of college, picked up two jobs, and moved us into a tiny studio. I filed for guardianship and held on, even when Diane accused me of abuse. But she didn’t count on Ms. Harper—our neighbor and retired teacher—whose courtroom testimony saved us. Then I overheard Diane say, “Once we get custody, the trust fund is ours.”

I found the documents—$200K meant for Max’s future. I recorded Diane and Gary plotting and gave it to my lawyer. At the final hearing, the judge said, “You used a child for financial gain.” Case closed. Max held my hand and asked, “Are we going home now?” I smiled. “Yeah, buddy. We are.”