My neighbor kept insisting she spotted my daughter at home during school hours. To be sure, I pretended to leave for work—then hid beneath the bed. Minutes later, I heard more than one set of footsteps crossing the hallway.

“Oh, Mom, you know Mrs. Greene,” Lily said, twirling her fork. “She probably saw the mailman and thought it was me. I’m at school, I promise. My attendance record is perfect.”

She smiled at me. But for the first time, I saw that the smile didn’t reach her eyes. Behind the hazel irises, something trembled—a frantic, caged fear.

I went to bed, but sleep was a stranger. My mind circled the possibilities like a vulture. Drugs? Boys? A secret life I knew nothing about?

By 2:00 a.m., staring at the ceiling fan slicing through the shadows, I knew I couldn’t live in the dark anymore. I had to know the truth, even if it broke my heart.

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