It was a week later when Monica returned to the school. This time, she wasn’t in disguise. She was in full performance.
A fitted beige trench coat hugged her figure, paired with elegant flats and a soft cashmere scarf. She looked like every other high-end parent on the school grounds—harmless, refined, and trustworthy.
This time, she didn’t enter through the front office. She already knew the timing now: the sweet spot between the end of school and the rush of parents arriving late for pickup.
She waited near the playground exit, outside the fencing but close enough to watch. And sure enough, there he was—Austin, laughing as he chased a soccer ball across the grass, his backpack loosely hanging off one shoulder.
The teacher on duty was preoccupied helping a younger child with a noseble
