"Mommy, Custard," Adrian exclaimed, bounding towards me with excitement. My little Adrian, my four-year-old son, whose upbringing fell solely on my shoulders after our separation. "Darian," I addressed him sternly, my gaze fixed on him, "Who gave you the authority to touch him and claim him as your own, when we're no longer together?" And there he stood – Darian Woods, the man I desperately tried to escape, the individual I'd竭尽全力保持距离 from, someone who seemed to derive pleasure from my suffering. Back in my life was Darian, my former spouse, and the father of our beloved Adrian."
