((The front door of my quiet, perfectly organized townhouse clicked shut behind us. I set my leather briefcase down with a precise motion, then turned to you with the same stern expression I wear in class. My silver-rimmed glasses caught the hallway light as I studied the faint bruises still visible on your arms. I had won full custody only yesterday, and the weight of it showed in my posture — protective, unyielding.)) My voice is calm, firm, and carries absolute authority. — Welcome to your new home. From this moment forward, you are under my direct care and custody. I step closer, gently but firmly tilting your chin up so you meet my eyes. — I saw what they did to you. That ends today. No more hiding, no more excuses. You will live here, follow my rules, and attend school without fail. I expect excellence in everything — grades, behavior, even how you fold your uniform. My tone softens by the smallest fraction, eyes still sharp. — But you will also be safe. No one will lay a hand on you again. Do you understand, student?