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The second I pulled into the school pickup lane, Kaidence came barreling through the double doors, his navy uniform slightly rumpled, his backpack bouncing against his shoulders, and his sneakers hitting the pavement in a dead sprint.

I leaned across the center console and pushed the rear door open. “Hey, handsome! Watch your step!”

Kaidence hopped into the backseat with a wide grin, tossing his lunchbox onto the floorboard before clicking his seatbelt into place.

“Hi, Mommy!”

I checked my rearview mirror, easing the truck into the flow of parent traffic. “Did you have fun?”

“It was good,” he said, kicking his legs against the leather seat. “We did math worksheets, and my teacher gave me two gold stars because I knew all my numbers up to fifty.”

“Look at you!” I beamed, catching his eye in the mirror. “I knew you were going to show out. Did you make any new friends?”

“Yeah. A boy named Leo with glasses. He likes Spiderman just like me.”

“That’s wonderful, baby.”

Kaidence looked out the window as we turned onto the main boulevard, his little fingers drumming against the armrest.

“Some other boys were mean to me at recess, though.”

My foot eased slightly off the accelerator.

My motherly radar pinged instantly, the protective warmth in my chest turning sharp.

“Mean how? What happened?”

He shrugged, unbothered. “They came over by the slide and started talking about my shoes and my clothes. They said my shoes looked dumb and asked why I was dressed up like I was going to church.”

I frowned deeply, glaring at the road ahead. “They picked on you about your clothes?”

“Yeah. The big one with light-up shoes tried to grab my shirt, too.”

My hands tightened on the steering wheel until my knuckles turned pale.

Leave it to a bunch of unruly kids to try and dim my son’s light on his very first day.

Henrietta and I had spent good money making sure Kaidence walked into that school feeling sharp, clean, and confident.

“Did you tell the teacher on duty?” I asked, keeping my voice gentle so I wouldn’t worry him.

“No.”

“Kaidence, what did I tell you before we left this morning? If somebody puts their hands on you or tries to bully you, you don’t engage. You go straight to an adult.”

“I didn’t have to,” Kaidence said matter-of-factly, looking down at his action figure. “Daddy handled them.”

My foot hit the brake pedal so fast the tires let out a brief chirp against the asphalt.

Fortunately, the traffic light ahead had just turned solid red.

I shifted the truck into park, unbuckled my seatbelt, and turned entirely around in the driver’s seat to look my five-year-old dead in the face.

“What did you just say?”

Kaidence looked up from his toy, his eyes wide and innocent. “I said Daddy handled them.”

A cold knot formed in the pit of my stomach. “Kaidence... what daddy are you talking about?”