Chapter 3: The Hidden Cameras
Within minutes, the mansion's private security office came alive.
Dozens of surveillance monitors illuminated the room.
Every hallway.
Every staircase.
Every entrance.
Every playroom.
The father sat silently before the screens.
His son rested beside him under a blanket while the family physician treated the swollen cheek.
The stepmother stood behind two security officers.
She kept insisting.
"This is ridiculous."
"I loved that child."
"You can't judge me because of one misunderstanding."
No one answered.
The head of security inserted a secure drive into the system.
"Sir."
"We recovered the deleted recordings."
The stepmother froze.
"You... what?"
The first video appeared.
It showed Ethan quietly coloring in the library.
She entered.
Without warning, she ripped the drawing apart.
Another clip.
She deliberately dropped an expensive crystal vase.
Moments later, she blamed Ethan.
Another.
She forced him to kneel on cold marble for hours.
Another.
She slapped him.
Again.
And again.
The room remained utterly silent.
Even the security officers looked sick.
Then came the final recording.
The one from that afternoon.
She looked directly into the camera before striking Ethan across the face.
Then she smiled.
Actually smiled.
She believed the footage had already been erased.
The father leaned back slowly.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Finally...
He spoke.
"Call the police."
The stepmother screamed.
"You can't!"
"I'm your wife!"
He turned toward her.
"No."
"My wife died five years ago."
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"You were simply someone I trusted."
"And that trust is over."
