Chapter 2 - The Digital Witness
The loading circle on my phone screen seemed to spin for an eternity. My hands shook so badly I nearly dropped the device onto the cheap motel bedspread. Next to me, Mia was finally asleep, her breathing hitched by occasional, lingering sobs. The sight of her bare, uneven scalp made my blood boil all over again.
When the app finally synced with the cloud server, I scrolled back to earlier that afternoon, right around the time I was boarding my flight back to Houston. The camera’s wide-angle lens perfectly captured the living room and the hallway leading to Beatrice and Arthur’s master bedroom.
I hit play.
For a few minutes, the house was empty. Then, Chloe strolled into the frame. My thirty-year-old, chronically unemployed sister-in-law was constantly complaining about her credit card debts. I watched in cold, silent horror as Chloe looked around, slipped into her mother’s bedroom, and emerged three minutes later holding a familiar velvet jewelry box. She opened it, admiring the antique pearl necklace, before stuffing it deep into her oversized designer purse.
But that wasn't the worst part.
Just as Chloe turned to leave, Beatrice walked out of the kitchen. She caught her daughter red-handed. The microphone picked up their hushed, frantic argument.
"What are you doing? Put that back!" Beatrice hissed.
"Mom, I need the cash! If I don't pay off my cards, they're going to sue me," Chloe begged.
I watched Beatrice sigh, looking at her entitled daughter with a twisted sense of sympathy. "Fine. Pawn it. But your father will notice it's missing by tonight."
"What do we do?" Chloe asked.
May you like
Beatrice looked down the hall toward the playroom, where my sweet, innocent Mia was watching cartoons. A cruel, reptilian smile spread across my mother-in-law's face. "We blame the brat. Clara has been getting too comfortable here anyway. David needs a wife who respects us, not a gold-digger. We use this to teach the kid a lesson and throw the mother out."
I stopped the recording. My chest heaved. They hadn't just made a mistake. They had orchestrated the abuse of my four-year-old child to cover up a theft and settle a petty family grudge.
