My mom moved her new boyfriend into our house, and at first everything seemed normal, until I caught him b:eat:ing my little au:tistic brother

I called Clara that evening from the privacy of the cottage. My voice trembled as I explained who I was working for and what I had found.

There was a long, heavy silence on the other end of the line. For a moment, I thought she was going to hang up on me.

"Nellie," Clara said, her voice unusually tight. "My father is a stubborn, difficult man. He chose his pride over his family a long time ago."

"He's eighty-four, Clara," I said gently. "He has dementia. He doesn't have much time left. And... I think he regrets it. I found a journal. His wife wrote about how much he missed you, how he searched for you but couldn't find you after they moved. Please. Just come see him. Just once."

Another long silence. "I'll think about it," she whispered, and hung up.

I spent the next two days in a state of high anxiety, hoping I hadn't made a terrible mistake.

On Thursday afternoon, a sleek, black sedan drove up the winding driveway of the estate. It wasn't Clara's modest car.

My heart sank into my stomach as the car doors opened.

Out of the passenger side stepped my mother. And out of the driver's side stepped Austin.

They had found us.

I ran out of the cottage, meeting them on the driveway before they could reach the main house. I stood firmly in their path, my hands clenched into fists.

"What are you doing here?" I demanded, my voice shaking with a mixture of anger and fear. "How did you find me?"

My mother looked thin, her eyes red-rimmed. But Austin looked as arrogant as ever, a smug smile plastered across his face.

"Your little friend at the boarding house, Clara, wasn't very hard to track down," Austin sneered. "And she was more than happy to tell us where you went when we told her you stole your brother away."

"That's a lie," I spat. "Clara would never tell you anything." (In reality, I realized with a sick feeling, they must have followed Clara or found some mail forwarded to the estate).

"Nellie, please," my mother pleaded, taking a step toward me. "You've gone too far. You took Graham. He needs his mother. He needs stability. You're just a child yourself. You can't raise him!"

"I am raising him!" I shouted. "Look at him! He's happy here! He’s safe! He doesn't have to worry about being hit by this monster!" I pointed a furious finger at Austin.

Austin’s smile vanished, replaced by a dark, menacing glare. He stepped closer, towering over me. "Listen to me, you little brat. We are taking the boy back. And if you try to stop us, I will make sure the police lock you up for kidnapping and assault. You think you're so smart, but you're nothing. You're just a runaway."