Brandon’s heart tightened. “My son has never been to any school,” he said quietly. “He has a nanny at home.”
Denise’s shoulders sagged. She looked defeated.
“Please forgive her,” Denise whispered. “We will go.”
They left quickly, leaving Brandon alone with a damp pillow and a small golden bottle in his hand. He uncapped it and sniffed. It smelled like plain tap water. That afternoon, Brandon called the nanny, Rosa Martinez.
“Tell me the truth,” he said without greeting. “Did you take Lucas to a kindergarten.”
There was a long silence on the other end.
“Mr. Keller,” she said at last, her voice trembling, “only twice a week. He was lonely. He needed other children. It was a good place. Safe. I thought I was helping him.”
Brandon closed his eyes. “Where.”
“In East Austin,” Rosa answered softly. “Near the old rail yard.”
Brandon hung up without another word. Anger surged through him. Not at Rosa alone, but at himself for missing so much of his son’s life while chasing meetings and deals and late dinners.