Marcus: Clear my schedule for the rest of the day, Sarah! Right now!
Sarah: Mr. Davis? Is everything okay? The board members are arriving in ten minutes for the acquisition meeting!
Marcus: Cancel it! Reschedule it! I don't give a damn about the contract!
Marcus sprinted out of the office lobby, his leather shoes squeaking loudly against the polished marble floor. He pushed through the heavy glass doors and ran straight into the parking garage. His pulse thrummed loudly in his ears as he unlocked his SUV and threw himself into the driver's seat.
Marcus: Hang on, Leo. Daddy is coming.
He mounted his phone on the dashboard, keeping the live camera feed active. On the screen, Leo was curled up into a ball on the classroom carpet, sobbing uncontrollably. Mrs. Vance stood over him, pointing a finger at his face while the other children sat frozen in fear.
Mrs. Vance: Stop that sniveling right now, Leo! Big boys don't cry over a little discipline!
Leo: It hurts... my hand hurts so bad...
Mrs. Vance: It hurts because you disobeyed me! Now sit up straight and keep quiet before I call the principal!
Marcus slammed his hand on the steering wheel as he sped through a green light, weaving dangerously through afternoon traffic on the Dallas highway. His mind was racing, replaying every tiny red flag he had ignored over the past month.
Marcus: I knew something was wrong. I knew I wasn't crazy.
Three weeks ago, Leo had started crying every morning before school. He had begged his father to let him stay home, hiding behind the kitchen island whenever it was time to put on his shoes. When Marcus had asked the school administrator about it, they had assured him it was just standard separation anxiety.
Marcus: "Separation anxiety," my foot. They were hiding a monster.
Marcus pulled out his phone's voice assistant while keeping his eyes locked on the road ahead.
Marcus: Call Detective Reynolds!
The phone rang twice before a deep voice answered through the car's Bluetooth system.
Detective Reynolds: Marcus? I'm in the middle of a briefing. What's going on?
Marcus: Reynolds, I need police units sent to Oakridge Academy right now! Classroom 4B!
Detective Reynolds: Slow down, man. What happened? Is there an active threat?
Marcus: A teacher just physically assaulted my four-year-old son! I have the entire incident captured on a high-definition remote camera feed!
Detective Reynolds: Are you serious? Is the boy still in danger?
Marcus: She just struck him with a heavy wooden ruler! She's standing over him right now while he cries! I'm two minutes away!
Detective Reynolds: Marcus, listen to me carefully. Do not do anything reckless. I am dispatching two patrol cars to the location right now. Stay in your car until my officers arrive!
Marcus: I'm not waiting for anyone, Reynolds! If she touches my boy again, God help her!
Marcus threw the phone onto the passenger seat and slammed his foot on the accelerator. Tires screeched as he rounded the final corner leading toward the private academy's front entrance. The grand brick building came into view, looking serene and safe from the outside—a complete illusion hiding the nightmare inside.
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