When Jason entered my life, everything felt like it was finally coming together. I had a stable job, a cozy apartment in Brooklyn, and most importantly, my sweet five-year-old son, Jamie. Jason was charming, polished, and seemed to genuinely care for both of us. Even though he was going through a rough patch—no place of his own—I opened our door and heart to him.
My friends were skeptical, but I believed in giving someone a chance. He treated Jamie like his own, and that felt like more than enough.
Thanks to a few professional connections, I helped Jason find work. Before long, he had a new wardrobe, a nice car, and a growing sense of confidence. Then came the big moment—he proposed. “Quit your job,” he urged. “Focus on Jamie. Let me support us now.” It sounded like love and stability. I trusted him.
But over time, things started to shift.
With me no longer working, Jason’s patience with Jamie began to fade. Finances became unpredictable. There were always excuses—bank delays, cards not working, sudden trips for business. So, I picked up night shifts as a taxi driver to help keep things afloat.
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