The call came just after noon, slicing through Isabelle’s day like a knife. She was in the middle of a client meeting when her assistant knocked softly on the glass door, her face pale. Isabelle excused herself, her heart already starting to race.
“Miss Bennett?” The school administrator’s voice was calm, but there was an undercurrent of concern. “We need you to come in. There’s been… an incident with Elliott.”
Isabelle’s stomach dropped. “Is he okay?”
“He’s not hurt,” Mrs. Cohen assured her, “But we really need to discuss his behavior.”
By the time the call ended, the familiar guilt was already clawing its way up her throat. She grabbed her coat and bag, firing off a quick text to Sebastian on the way out the door. Her mind raced with worst-case scenarios during the drive, the words “
