The Prosecutor's Wife: A Mother's Fury

iling, Mateo laughing. But the narrative it spun was monstrous. It painted Leo as the aggressor, a violent, unsta

shared memories, became a cesspool of hate. "Child abuser!" "Bad mot

Indefinitely. "For the safety of other students,

email. Busy signal. No callbacks. Calvin had built a wall around me,

For the first time, I felt it. The true, terrifying descent int

ng sound in the sudden

eptively calm. "Let's end this. Dro

les white. "Go away? You th

n't spoken. "I can get your job back. Get Leo ba

ore you let our son get brutalized? Before you destroyed my life?" My voice rose, a raw, unta

almost hear him sigh. "You're being stu

ked, then hurled the phone across the room. It shat

wide. He looked like a ghost. "Mommy?" he whispered

stroked his head, feeling the soft warmth of his skin. "No, baby," I cho

hood. Whispers turned to stares, then outright hostility. Neighbors, once friendly,

known for years. She rolled down her window, her face contorted in a sneer. "Y

t. Or the next. Or the next. Thre

. Every creak of the floorboards, every rustle of leaves outside, sent a jolt of terror throu

ow-eyed, I led Leo out of the house. W

flashing cameras, and angry faces. They surged forward a

other who abus

lie about t

ur husband,

ved. Leo cried out, his small hand gripping mine like a lifeline. I staggered

s!" I screamed,

to the relative calm of the courthouse lobby. My leg scraped, b

d with Bethany Morales. She was holding his arm, a picture of demure concern. He met my eyes across th