My daughter’s dream prom date brought her home—then gave me five minutes to confess the truth, or he would expose everything himself

quickly.

“I’ll tell you when I get home. It’s… crazy.”

“Good crazy or bad crazy, Iris? Are you safe?”

By midnight, I had worn a path between the couch and the window.

At 12:07, headlights swept the curtains, and I had the door open before they reached the porch.

“Iris?”

She came in first, her eyes bright and unsettled.

“Mom, continue reading …