Isabella’s POV.
“But mother, you said to go to him if I ever had any problems.”
Charles, my son kept explaining.
Goodness. It took every atom of calm that I had for me not to yell at him.
I stood quiet with my arms folded, watching him explain why he was stuck in a stranger's car when he was supposed to be waiting with the rest of the children outside.
“He saw me and asked me to come with him and then…and then…”
Charles always stuttered when he felt overwhelmed.
Or when he felt I thought he was lying which was the case.
He fidgeted with the pencil he was holding, looking down at his shoes that weren't dirty and then biting down his thumb.
The few times he raised his eyes to look at me, he received a stern look.
“Mommy, I'm sorry. I promise you it won't happen again,” he begged.
