I let out a bitter laugh and dialed Max's number myself. The second the call connected, his impatient voice cut through.
"Are you going to whine about the kids being mistreated at school again? They're my children—who would dare touch a hair on their heads? Stop playing the victim. I sent them there to learn some manners. Was that really worth calling me over and over?"
"Marina Pruitt, you disgust me."
I hadn't said a single word. He'd already hung up.
I'd had the call on speaker. Every word reached my sister-in-law's ears.
Her face went white. Her lips moved, trembling, but no sound came out—as if she no longer knew what to say.
I forced the ghost of a smile onto my face. Tears spilled down my cheeks in heavy, uncontrollable drops.
"Please. I have nothing left. Just let me go. I can't take this anymore."
She opened her mouth to respond, but two police officers were already approaching us.
"Are you the family of the deceased? The staff responsible at the Discipline Academy have been taken into custody. We need your cooperation with the investigation."
The moment I stepped into the police station, I saw them—the men who had come to my home yesterday to take my children.
I lost all reason.