My daughter-in-law insisted we drive separately. Halfway down the road, my grandson leaned close and whispered, “Grandma… it’s a trap. Mom tricked you.” I hit the brakes, my heart pounding—because what I realized next changed everything.

I was driving the old family minivan, my grandson, Dylan, quiet in the back seat. The city streets were a cacophony of blaring horns and screeching tires. I glanced in the rearview mirror, trying to adjust my angle, and saw Dylan’s strange expression. He was hugging his backpack tightly, his face pale, his twelve-year-old eyes wide and full of a worry that went far beyond his years. A knot of unease tightened in my chest.