Relief hit like a wave, leaving me weak and trembling. The nightmare was over — at least officially.

When Daniel was released, he stood in my doorway, exhausted but quiet. He didn’t shout, didn’t accuse. He just said, “You really thought I could do that?”

Tears blurred my vision. “I didn’t know what to think.”

He nodded slowly. “That’s what hurts the most.”

That night, after Emily went to bed, I sat at the kitchen table staring at her backpack. One stain — one small, meaningless stain — had torn through the foundation of our family like a blade.

Detective Whitaker had told me, “Everyone did the right thing.” And he was right. The teacher, the police, even me — we had to be sure Emily was safe. But the emotional wreckage left behind wasn’t so easily cleaned up.