The Evidence
In the middle of the chaos, my son quietly pulled out his phone.
He opened a hidden photo folder.
“She said fourteen-year-old boys always want it,” he said. “Said I should be grateful.”
I looked over his shoulder.
My stomach turned.
The images were unmistakable.
Conrad stared at the screen, his hands shaking.
“That could be anyone,” he said weakly.
But his voice sounded hollow — like someone repeating words they didn’t believe.
Lauren lunged for the phone.
“Those are out of context! I was just—”
She stopped.
Realizing she’d just admitted the photos were real.
