Chapter 4 - The Ugly Truth
The video player buffered for a second before the kitchen appeared in crystal clear high-definition.
I pressed play and watched the entire horrific scene unfold from a bird's-eye view.
The audio was perfectly crisp.
I heard my mother politely asking about the mugs.
I watched Rebecca grab the steaming cup of tea.
I saw the twisted, demonic look on my wife's face as she hurled the boiling liquid at my frail mother.
Then, the camera captured me walking in, the argument, and my ultimate demand for her to leave.
It was undeniable, airtight proof of her unprovoked assault.
But as I looked at the long list of video files, a dark curiosity washed over me.
What else had happened in this house while I was at work?
I clicked on a video dated two weeks prior.
The footage showed my mother sitting quietly at the kitchen island, eating a bowl of soup.
Rebecca walked in, grabbed the bowl, and dumped it directly into the trash can.
"You eat too loudly, it's disgusting," Rebecca hissed on the recording.
My mother didn't say a word; she just lowered her head and walked away hungry.
Tears blurred my vision as I clicked on another file.
This one showed Rebecca intentionally tripping my mother as she carried laundry down the hall.
Video after video revealed a systematic, cruel campaign of psychological and physical torment.
She had called my mother names, hidden her medication, and treated her worse than a stray animal.
I slammed my fist onto the desk, completely disgusted with myself.
How had I been so blind?
How had I let the woman who sacrificed everything for me suffer in silence under my own roof?
I transferred every single video file onto three separate secure flash drives.
I uploaded copies to a secure cloud server, ensuring the evidence could never be destroyed.
Rebecca wanted to play the victim on Facebook.
She wanted to ruin my reputation and steal my assets.
I picked up my phone and dialed the number of the most aggressive, ruthless divorce attorney in the city.
A man known simply as "The Shark" in local legal circles.
"Mr. Sterling," the gruff voice answered on the other end.
"I need your services," I said, my voice cold and focused.
"I have a cheating wife, absolute proof of elder abuse, and I want to destroy her."
"Come to my office first thing tomorrow," The Shark replied.
"Bring the evidence."
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I hung up the phone, staring at the flashing screen of my laptop.
The war had officially begun.
