My Son's Hunt for a New Mom

The day I was thrown out with nothing, my CEO wife, Monroe, flicked a black Centurion card right at my face. Five million in there, she said, her tone flat. Take your kid and get out.

Beside me, my little boy, Gideon, snatched the card and shoved it right back into her palm. His voice was soft, but every syllable hit clear. "My dad says breakups should be clean," he chirped. "We don't need your alimony."

I stared at him.

What?

He turned, wrapped his arms tightly around my thigh, and shot me a blatant wink. "Come on, Dad, let's go! I already scouted three pretty ladies at preschool. They're sweet, they tell the best stories, and they're way better than this ice queen!"

Monroe's eyes widened.

Her designer sunglasses slipped down the bridge of her nose.

I scooped Gideon up with one arm, didn't spare her a single extra glance, and turned toward the street corner.

If someone was going to burn in the ashes of this marriage, it sure as hell wasn't going to be me.

Chapter 1

I carried my son, Gideon, out of that suffocating mansion. The massive front doors slammed shut behind us, cutting off that entire world. The air tasted like freedom.

Gideon nuzzled against my chest. "Dad, we finally made it out."

I patted his back. "Yeah, buddy. We did."

The original owner's memories were a chaotic mess of heavy drinking, gambling, and a whole lot of nothing. The only thing he ever got right was this kid. Between the two of us, we had exactly three hundred and twentyone dollars and fifty cents. That was Monroe's version of a clean break.

We rented a tiny studio apartment in the older, run-down part of town. The paint was peeling, but the windows were huge and let the sunlight pour right in.

Gideon didn't have an ounce of that spoiled rich-kid entitlement. Instead, he just rolled around on the lumpy mattress like it was a bouncy castle. "Dad, it's our secret base!" He grinned. "No one's gonna boss us around anymore, right?"

A tight knot formed in my throat. I couldn't even imagine what kind of life this kid had been living before. "Right," I told him. "From now on, I make the rules."

I dropped our duffel bag and started mapping out our next move.

For three years, the original owner had been a stay-at-home husband with zero say in anything. He got trampled on in this unequal marriage and was finally tossed out like trash.

But I wasn't him. I was Beckett, the guy who ran a three-Michelin-star kitchen in my past life. The culinary scene in this world was basically elementary school level.

I looked out the window. Down below was a small plaza, packed with people at night.

An idea clicked into place.

A food cart.

I turned to Gideon, who was still tossing around on the bed. "Hey kiddo, want to eat the best food every single day?"

His eyes lit up. He scrambled to his knees. "Yeah!"

"Then we're gonna go sell some killer food and make all the other kids jealous."

Gideon threw a tiny fist in the air, his face glowing. "Deal! We're gonna make so much money, and then we'll find you the prettiest, nicest lady in the world to be your new wife!"

His innocent chatter made me laugh out loud.

Alright. Let's do this.

I decided to start with something simple that tested real culinary skill: a honey-glazed pork rice bowl. I even had a name for it. The SoulStealer.

For our first night out, I dumped every cent we had into a beat-up food cart and some basic cooking gear. I picked a spot right outside a nearby corporate office building. Late-night office workers grinding through overtime needed a hot meal more than anyone.

As night fell, I parked the cart and flipped on the single, dim yellow bulb. The pork sizzled on the flat top. The thick, sweet aroma of the honey glaze mixed with the rich, smoky meat, drifting straight down the block.

Meanwhile, back in that ice-cold mansion, Monroe stood by the massive floor-to-ceiling windows. She stared at the security footage of our backs as we walked away.

Her assistant stood to the side, reporting in a low voice. "Ms. Monroe, they rented a place in the slums. It's practically falling apart."

Monroe swirled the wine in her glass, a mocking smirk tugging at her lips.

She was dead certain that within three days, that useless man would come crawling back with the kid, begging on his knees.

Half an hour into our grand opening, we didn't have a single customer. The corporate drones hurried past, tossing a quick glance at the unfamiliar cart before rushing off.

I didn't sweat it. I just focused on managing the heat on the griddle.

Gideon was even more patient than I was. He pulled up a tiny stool and sat right beside me, swinging his short legs.

Finally, a girl with her hair pulled up in a messy bun stopped in her tracks. The aroma had reeled her right in. "Hey," she said, eyeing the grill. "What is that?"

"The SoulStealer Bowl. Fifteen bucks."

She hesitated. Fifteen bucks for street-cart fried rice was a little steep.

I didn't say a word. I just scooped up half a portion into a bowl and handed it right to her.

Chapter 2

"Try it. If it sucks, it's free."

The girl took the bowl and carefully scooped up a bite. A second later, her eyes went wide. She stopped chewing, her face frozen.

Gideon immediately hopped off his stool, trotted over to her, and tilted his little head up. "Isn't my dad's cooking the absolute best in the whole universe?"

The girl snapped out of it and nodded hard. "It's amazing! It's so good!"

Gideon patted his chest like a tiny boss. "If you come every day, I'll give you a free hug every single time!"

The girl melted. She whipped out her phone and started snapping a flurry of pictures. "Oh my god, I have to post this on Insta. This food cart is unreal!"

She bought two portions right on the spotone to eat now, one to go.

Before she left, Gideon made good on his promise, throwing his arms wide and giving her a massive hug. "Bye!"

One customer turned into two, then three. The smell from the grill and that girl's Instagram story became our ultimate marketing. Soon enough, a line started wrapping around my cart.

Gideon let loose, basically acting as my little PR manager. He even set up a ridiculous rule. "Hugs are strictly for the pretty ladies! You guys can only buy food, no touching!"

A burly, bearded guy didn't buy it and tried to tease him. "Hey kid, what if I buy an extra bowl? Do I get a hug then?"

Gideon crossed his arms over his chest, his face scrunched up in disgust. "No way. You look way too rough. You'll scare me."

The crowd busted out laughing. The big guy just rubbed his nose and chuckled.

The line kept growing. Half the people were there for the food, and the other half just wanted to watch this tiny social menace put on a show.

It wasn't long before an influencer holding a selfie stick pushed her way to the front. "Hey guys! Today we're checking out a cart where word on the street is the boss is super hot and his kid is adorable"

Before she could finish, Gideon pointed right at her. "Lady, your beauty filter is turned way too high. You don't look like that in real life."

The influencer's face instantly went pale.

The live stream comments immediately exploded.

[ LMAOOO kids have zero chill! ]

[ This kid knows exactly what he's doing! ]

[ Get the camera on that savage baby right now! ]

The influencer was smart enough to roll with it. She instantly pivoted the camera down to Gideon. "Well sweetie, do you think the girls watching the stream are pretty?"

Gideon flashed a massive, brilliant smile right at the lens. "Super pretty! By the way, my dad is single and ready to mingle! We are actively recruiting a new wife!"

"Requirements: beautiful, sweet, and knows how to cook! If you're an ice queen like my exmom, that's an automatic pass!"

The live chat went feral.

The hashtag FiveYearOldFindingDadAWife skyrocketed to the top of the local trending page.

I watched my son work the crowd of women like a pro, dropping one-liners left and right I didn't know whether to be mad or laugh. The kid was a total genius.

By the end of the night, our sales broke five hundred bucks.

After packing up the cart, I took him to buy a pack of his favorite superhero trading cards. He held the pack but didn't tear it open, just carefully tucked it into his pocket like it was treasure. I figured he was just saving it for himself.

But the very next day, the girl with the messy bun showed up again. She had officially become our number one fan.

Gideon pulled her aside like it was some topsecret mission and shoved the pack of cards into her hand. "Here, Elara! This is for you! You were the very first person to buy my dad's food yesterday!"

Her name was Elara, and she was a nurse.

Chapter 3

Elara's cheeks flushed bright red, her hands waving rapidly to refuse.

Gideon just set his little face into a serious pout. "My dad says we have to pay it forward. You take this, and you have to come back every single day!"

I watched them, a warm feeling spreading in my chest. This kid was way better at networking than I was.

The power of a trending hashtag was no joke. The next day, my cart was mobbed.

Meanwhile, Monroe finally lost her cool.

Her assistant stood trembling, holding out a tablet. "Ms. Monroe, Beckett and Gideon, they've gone viral online. Word is, his food cart is doing incredibly well. They aren't struggling at all."

Monroe swiped aggressively at the screen. She stared at the glaring hashtag. She saw me surrounded by young women. She saw Gideon laughing brightly in another woman's arms.

Her grip tightened around her phone until her knuckles popped.

Struggling? This was struggling?

This was them living their absolute best lives!

She had expected us to come crawling back in tears. Instead, we turned right around, started over, and were literally holding public auditions for her replacement!

A spike of raw heat rushed straight to her head. She snatched up her keys. "Get the car ready."

A black Maybach braked violently by the curb. Monroe stepped out, wearing a razor-sharp tailored suit. The stiletto heels of her red-bottom shoes slammed heavily onto the grease-stained asphalt.

She tilted her chin up, her gaze sweeping over the crowd like a spotlight.

She had probably imagined a hundred different ways this reunion would go. That I'd look shocked. Panicked. Pathetic.

Instead, she got nothing.

I barely even glanced up from the sizzling grill, tossing the wok before moving right back to work. I treated her like she was just another random pedestrian on the street.

The weight of being ignored drained the color straight out of Monroe's face. She couldn't process it. She was the one who pulled the strings!

Gideon spotted her immediately. He wiggled right out of Elara's arms and sprinted to stand in front of me, throwing his arms out wide like a little guard dog protecting his turf.

"Red alert! You are strictly banned from coming within ten feet of my dad!" His voice was tiny, but it was dripping with hostility.

Monroe's nails dug brutally deep into her palms. Her stilettos clicked sharply against the pavement as she forced a step forward.

"Gideon, get over here right now! I am your legal guardian!" Her breathing turned harsh, her chest rising and falling heavily.

Gideon didn't budge an inch. Instead, he whipped around to face the massive crowd and screamed at the top of his lungs.

"Look at her, everybody! This is the evil woman who threw her husband and kid out on the street! She saw us making money and now she wants to ruin everything!"

"My dad works from dawn to dusk to feed me! What gives her the right to bully us!"

The crowd instantly erupted.

"Oh damn, that's the dad from the trending page!"

"Wow, she's gorgeous, but how can her heart be that rotten?"

"So she drives a Maybach, big deal. You think money lets you step on people?"

The whispers and pointed accusations stabbed into Monroe from every direction. She stood rigid, her nails biting into her palms under the harsh glare of the crowd.

She stood frozen in the middle of the crowd, looking like a joke put on public display.

And me? I never even looked at her.

I just scooped up a fresh bowl of hot pork and rice, handing it over to Elara. I kept my voice just loud enough for Monroe to catch. "Try it. I added a little extra honey glaze today just for you."

A tone that soft was something Monroe had never once gotten from me.

Monroe finally snapped.

Surrounded by disgust from the crowd and staring at the faint smirk playing on my lips, she practically scrambled back into her car. Her hands clamped onto the steering wheel, the veins bulging visibly against her skin.

She couldn't compute how everything had spiraled out of her control.

"I want his cart gone," she hissed. "Now."

Chapter 4

Inside the Maybach, Monroe gripped her phone, snapping out orders syllable by syllable. Her voice held zero warmth, laced with an icy cruelty.

She was not going to let me have a win. And she sure as hell wasn't going to let Gideon call another woman Mom.

The very next day, I had barely set up the cart when a squad of city code inspectors swarmed us.

The lead inspector stepped up, his face set in stone. "We received a tip. Operating without a permit, health code violations. We are shutting you down, effective immediately."

The crowd of customers and nearby vendors froze. I wasn't surprised in the slightest. This had Monroe's fingerprints all over it.

I calmly wiped my hands on a towel and pulled a stack of paperwork from a hidden compartment under the grill. "Here is my business license," I said, sliding the first sheet over.

"My food handler's card. My mobile vendor permit. And all the receipts for today's ingredients, bought fresh from the certified wholesale market."

I laid every single document and receipt out on the metal counter. It was way too much paperwork for a simple street cart.

The head inspector stared blankly. In all his years on the job, he had never seen a street vendor this bulletproof.

The regulars snapped out of their shock and immediately rallied around the cart.

"You can't just shut him down! Beckett's cart is spotless!"

"Yeah! We eat here every day, and no one has ever gotten sick!"

"This man is just trying to feed his kid! You are trying to ruin their lives!"

Elara pushed her way to the front, stepping right between me and the inspectors. "You can't do this! You need actual proof of a violation!"

Gideon took one look at the standoff and immediately activated his Oscar-worthy acting mode. He threw himself at the lead inspector, wrapping his tiny arms around the man's leg, and burst into theatrical tears.

"Please, mister! Don't take my dad away! If you smash our cart, we will have to sleep under a bridge! We will have to beg for money! I don't wanna be a homeless beggar!"

He wailed like his heart was shattering into a million pieces. It was a devastating performance.

I timed my sigh perfectly, dropping my shoulders and letting my arms fall loosely to my sides as I looked out at the crowd.

"I guess I don't have a choice. This is what happens when you cross a rich and powerful exwife. She lives in a massive mansion and drives a Maybach. She just can't stand seeing her own son and me survive on our own."

That single sentence threw gasoline on the fire. The crowd instantly turned on the inspectors, pointing fingers and shouting.

"So you are just doing the dirty work for some rich snob!"

"You are just her corporate lapdogs!"

"Record this! Put it online! Let everyone see what they are doing!"

Sweat beaded on the inspector's forehead. He had just taken a call from higher up, expecting a routine shutdown.

He hadn't expected to kick a hornet's nest. If this went viral, he would be stripped of his badge by morning.

"It's a misunderstanding! Just a misunderstanding!"

He tried to calm the angry mob while shooting me desperate looks. Finally, he had no choice but to signal his team and retreat in utter humiliation.

Down the street, parked out of sight, Monroe watched the entire farce unfold through a pair of binoculars.

Her manicured nails dug so hard into the leather steering wheel that her knuckles turned stark white, her jaw locked tight. For the first time in her life, she realized that the wealth and power she prided herself on meant nothing against a crowd of ordinary people.

It didn't take long for the bystanders to upload the footage online. The title was pure clickbait: Billionaire Ex-Wife Uses Connections to Crush Single Dad's Food Cart, Gets Brutally Owned by Angry Mob!

The video perfectly captured the stark contrast: my calm, Gideon's flawless acting, the crowd's fierce loyalty, and the inspectors' panic.

My persona as the devoted, abandoned single father had just been accidentally, and permanently, cemented.

Chapter 5

Business at the cart exploded even more than before. People were driving in from entirely different zip codes.

Half of them didn't even come for the foodthey just wanted to show support and take a few shots at the "venomous" exwife while they were at it.

Monroe took a massive loss. The backtoback failures forced her into a corner, shattering her confidence.

She couldn't compute it. Why did the useless deadbeat she married suddenly look reborn the second he left her?

She ordered her assistant to dig. Dig into everything Beckett had done since being kicked out. Bank statements, social media footprint, spending habits.

The results hit her like a freight train.

In the past, the money in Beckett's accounts either vanished into bars or evaporated at the casinos. But now? Every single transaction was crystal clear.

Aside from wholesale groceries and kitchen supplies, the rest went straight to action figures and snacks for Gideon. He had dropped the booze. He had dropped the gambling. He was a different man.

Monroe couldn't make it make sense. She drove back to her family's main estate. Her grandfatherGideon's great-grandfatherhad always adored the kid.

At the dinner table, the old man looked at her tight expression and let out a heavy sigh. "Monroe, is there some kind of misunderstanding between you and Beckett?"

Monroe gripped her silver fork. She didn't say a word.

The old man signaled the butler to bring over a manila envelope. "Take a look at this."

Monroe tore it open. Inside was a thick stack of investigative reports. And several high-definition photos.

The pictures showed Beckett tangled up with some heavily madeup woman outside a hotel entrance.

This was the exact photo. The final nail in the coffin of their marriage.

Back then, the second she saw the photo, the custom fountain pen in her hand had gouged a deep scratch straight across her solid oak desk. She hadn't listened to a single word of Beckett's defense. She just had building security drag him out and throw him onto the street.

But the report in her hands laid it out in black and white.

The photo was a deepfake. AI-generated by Donovan, her biggest corporate rival. The woman had been a paid actor planted by Donovan's team. Beckett had been framed from the very beginning.

Monroe held the photos. Her hands shook