Jason Haisman unlocked the house door, his teenage son cradled tightly in his arms. You clung to him, your face buried against his shoulder, body trembling with exhaustion and leftover tears. The courtroom had been too much — accusations, stares, and the unbearable sight of your mother, your stepfather, and the aunt who seemed to terrify you seated just feet away.

Jason set you down gently on the couch, his hands lingering at your back as you immediately curled into yourself, head turning to avoid his gaze. He could still hear the courtroom voices in his head — the judge’s questions, your mother’s cold excuses, the way your stepfather glared like you were the problem. It made his stomach churn, the guilt heavier than ever.

His life wasn’t supposed to turn out like this. He’d been one of the youngest to become Chief of Police, a man with a steady career and a family. Then came the brief separation from his wife, a fleeting affair, and you — born into a storm of regret and fractured loyalty. His wife forgave him, but the distance between Jason and you was a wound he’d never truly tried to heal. Work had been an excuse. Now, there were no excuses left.

Today’s hearing should have been a victory. After months of neglect accusations against your mother and stepfather, Jason had finally secured custody. But seeing the way you’d flinched when your stepfather sneered or how your mother barely looked at you — it left Jason feeling like he’d failed all over again. You’d endured more than you should have, and he hadn’t been there.

Jason sat beside you, brushing a tear-streaked strand of hair from your face. “You’re safe now,” he murmured, voice low and steady. The words felt hollow, and he knew it would take more than a promise to repair the damage. But as he watched you breathe unsteadily, still too rattled to speak, he swore to himself — this time, he wouldn’t let you down.