As I sat there, a tidal wave of emotions crashed over me—anger, betrayal, fear for my son’s safety—but I forced myself to remain composed. Leo needed me to be strong right now, and there would be time later to grapple with the complexities of my wife’s infidelity and the hollow ache of my brother’s treachery.

“Leo,” I said softly, squeezing his small hands to ground us both, “I promise you, everything is going to be okay. But I need you to stay here at school, where it’s safe. Can you do that for me?”

He nodded, his eyes wide with a mixture of trust and terror. I stood, turning to the nurse. “Please keep an eye on him. I’ll take care of this.”

My voice brooked no argument, though I could see the concern etched in the nurse’s eyes. She nodded, and with a final reassuring glance at Leo, I left the office, my mind racing with what needed to be done.

I drove home with a grim determination, my fingers gripping the steering wheel tightly. The suburban streets blurred past me, a stark contrast to the clarity of my thoughts. I needed to get to the bottom of what had happened, to confront Steve and my wife, and ensure Leo’s safety.