Tanner appeared, briefcase in hand, looking puzzled.
“What’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I said, still watching our son.
Victor (grandfather) rose. “We should leave. Give the family some room.”
They left quickly. Our Victor slipped to his room before I could reach him. Inside, my resolve hardened.
Over the next two weeks, I kept watch.
Victor and Lenore visited often, always when Tanner “worked late.” Each visit followed the same pattern: they went to Victor’s room, shut the door, and came out 20 minutes later with our son looking smaller, more shattered.
I couldn’t take it anymore.
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