My sister threw a mysterious pink liquid into my face at her wedding, laughing that it was just a joke, but when doctors identified the chemical burning my skin, the police discovered this was no accident.

Liam’s phone hit the concrete floor with a sickening crack.

“No,” Liam whispered, his eyes wide with horror. “No, no, no!”

“Call the school!” I screamed, grabbing Detective Miller’s lapels with both hands, ignoring the blinding pain that shot through my healing burns. “CALL THEM RIGHT NOW! EVELYN IS NOT ON THE PICKUP LIST! SHE’S NOT AUTHORIZED!”

“Units 4 and 12, roll immediately to Oakridge Elementary!” Miller shouted into his shoulder radio, sprinting toward the door. “We have an active parental abduction in progress! Suspect vehicle is a silver Mercedes sedan, license plate Victor-Echo-99!”

We tore out of the precinct, the cruiser’s tires screaming against the asphalt as Miller hit the sirens. Liam sat in the passenger seat, his hands locked onto the dashboard, his breathing ragged and shallow. I sat in the back, cold terror freezing the blood in my veins.

*Miles.*

My seven-year-old boy. The boy who loved dinosaurs. The boy who cried because his cake was broken. He was in the hands of the woman who had enabled the monsters living under her roof.

Twelve minutes later, Miller’s cruiser skidded to a halt in the circular drive of Oakridge Elementary.

Two police cruisers were already there, light bars flashing red and blue against the red-brick facade. A crowd of teachers stood near the main entrance, looking terrified.

Liam burst from the car before it had fully stopped, sprinting through the glass doors. I ran behind him, my heart hammering in my throat.

“Where is he?!” Liam roared, bursting into the administrative office.

The principal, Mrs. Gable, stood pale and trembling behind the counter. “Liam—I’m so sorry—she had a notarized court guardianship document! She had a legal custody order signed by Judge Hastings!”

“Hastings is Connor’s business associate!” Liam screamed, slamming his fist onto the counter. “Where did they go?!”

“She... she left five minutes ago,” Mrs. Gable stammered, tears welling in her eyes. “She said she was taking him to the Vance family estate in Newport. She said it was an emergency.”

“They’re consolidating,” Miller said, stepping into the office, his gun already drawn and resting at low-ready. “Connor’s private jet filed a flight plan out of Providence Airport forty minutes ago. Destination: Costa Rica. They’re using the boy as an insurance policy to get out of the country.”

“They’re not leaving,” I said.

My voice was dead. Flat. Empty of fear, empty of pain.

I looked at Liam. For seven years, we had been the gentle parents. The ones who compromised. The ones who smiled at Thanksgiving dinners while Paige insulted our furniture and Connor mocked our lifestyle. We had swallowed their venom to keep the peace.

And it had led to my face melting on a terrace, Arthur dying in an unmarked grave, and our son being kidnapped by his own grandmother.