The scene inside the closet stopped my heart cold.

Sophie was curled against the far wall, her uniform disheveled, her face streaked with tears. Standing over her was Mr. Halvorsen, a staff member I vaguely recognized—maintenance, I believed. His expression shifted instantly when he saw me, from something dark and predatory to startled panic.

“What is going on here?” My voice cut through the air like a blade.

Sophie sobbed, scrambling toward me, clinging to my leg as if I were the only solid thing left in her world. Halvorsen stammered something incoherent, but I was already pulling out my phone, recording everything. Every second mattered now.

“Don’t say another word,” I told him sharply. “You’re done.”