I picked up the manila folder and snapped the metal clasp shut, a sharp sound that marked the end of our discussion.

“Here’s what’s going to happen under this roof starting right now,” I announced, looking from my husband to his mother.

“Austin is staying in his home, in his bedroom, with his family; nobody is ever going to contact another school, pack up his things or talk about sending him away again.”

Gretchen opened her mouth to cut in, but I raised my hand in a sharp, commanding gesture that silenced her immediately.

“And you, Gretchen, are leaving this house right now, and you won’t be moving in under any circumstances,” I ordered without a moment’s hesitation.