CHAPTER 2: The Hidden Camera Never Forgot
The color drained from my mother's face.
Only for a second.
Then the smile returned.
Forced.
Unsteady.
"Oh, Connor," she laughed nervously. "You're overreacting."
"They're just security cameras."
"They won't show anything except Amy doing housework."
I looked straight into her eyes.
"Exactly."
For the first time in years...
My mother looked away first.
Amy quietly slipped on her shoes while I carried Frederick toward the front door.
My mother hurried after us.
"Connor, the guests are waiting."
"You can't just leave your own son's birthday party."
I stopped walking.
Slowly...
I turned around.
"My son's birthday party?"
I looked out toward the backyard.
Nearly twenty relatives were laughing around overflowing tables.
Someone was opening another expensive bottle of tequila.
A group of cousins argued over football while smoke drifted from the barbecue.
No one noticed we were leaving.
No one even asked where Frederick was.
I looked back at my mother.
"Tell me something."
"When was the last time you checked on him today?"
She hesitated.
"I've been busy cooking."
Amy lowered her eyes.
Connor's aunt, Linda, happened to walk inside carrying an empty platter.
"Teresa!"
"We're out of shrimp!"
She stopped when she saw Frederick.
"Oh..."
"I thought he was asleep."
My mother answered quickly.
"He was."
Amy couldn't stay silent anymore.
"He wasn't asleep."
Her voice was quiet.
"He was crying."
"For almost two hours."
The kitchen fell silent.
Linda frowned.
"Two hours?"
Amy nodded.
"He had a fever."
"I kept asking to take him to the doctor."
Mother immediately interrupted.
"It wasn't serious."
Amy looked at her for the first time that day.
"He was shaking."
"You said babies fake sickness when they're spoiled."
Linda's expression changed.
She slowly looked toward my mother.
"You said that?"
Mother forced another laugh.
"Oh, Amy exaggerates everything."
I didn't say another word.
I simply opened the front door.
"We're leaving."
The emergency room was crowded.
Within minutes, a nurse took one look at Frederick and rushed us into a treatment room.
His temperature measured 104.3°F.
Doctors immediately began cooling treatments.
Blood tests.
Chest X-rays.
IV fluids.
Amy stood beside the bed, holding his tiny hand.
She looked exhausted.
Guilty.
As though our son's illness were somehow her fault.
The pediatrician finally entered.
He studied Frederick's chart before looking at us.
"How long has he had this fever?"
Amy whispered,
"Almost twelve hours."
The doctor's face tightened.
"Twelve?"
He looked at me.
"Why wasn't he brought in sooner?"
Before I could answer...
Amy did.
"I wasn't allowed."
Silence.
The doctor frowned.
"What do you mean?"
Tears filled her eyes.
"My mother-in-law said he was pretending."
"She hid my phone."
The doctor's pen stopped moving.
He looked directly at me.
"Is that true?"
I couldn't speak.
Because I honestly didn't know.
I hadn't been there.
I had believed every lie my mother told me.
And that realization hurt more than anything.
Frederick was diagnosed with a severe viral infection complicated by dehydration.
The doctor explained calmly,
"Another several hours..."
He didn't finish the sentence.
He didn't need to.
Amy buried her face in her hands.
I wrapped one arm around her shoulders.
"I'm sorry."
She looked at me through tears.
"For what?"
"For believing everything was fine."
She shook her head.
"You trusted your mother."
"No."
I whispered.
"I stopped paying attention."
After Frederick fell asleep under observation...
Amy finally relaxed enough to sit down.
For several minutes neither of us spoke.
Then she quietly asked,
"Connor..."
"If I tell you everything..."
"Will you believe me?"
I reached across the chair and took her hand.
"Every word."
She stared at the hospital floor.
"The three thousand dollars you send every month..."
"...none of it went toward groceries."
I frowned.
"What?"
"She buys expensive jewelry."
"Designer clothes."
"Takes your relatives to casinos."
"And hosts parties."
I felt sick.
"I've seen the receipts."
"You have?"
Amy nodded.
"She made me organize them."
"She said if I ever told you..."
"...she'd convince you I was mentally unstable after giving birth."
My stomach tightened.
"There was more?"
Amy looked embarrassed.
"I started keeping copies."
My heart skipped a beat.
"Copies?"
She slowly nodded.
"Hidden."
"Where?"
She looked toward my phone lying beside me.
"In the folder I created for Frederick's baby pictures."
I stared at her.
"The hidden folder?"
She nodded.
"No one ever opens it."
Inside that folder...
Were photographs.
Bank statements.
Luxury purchases.
Credit-card bills.
Text messages.
Even recordings.
Everything she had secretly gathered during the past year.
She hadn't been waiting for revenge.
She had been waiting...
For me to finally ask.
Late that evening...
Frederick's fever finally began to fall.
The doctor smiled.
"He's responding well."
Relief washed over both of us.
For the first time all day...
Amy smiled.
A tiny, exhausted smile.
I kissed Frederick gently on the forehead.
Then I picked up my phone.
My thumb hovered over the hidden folder.
Amy whispered,
"Connor..."
"Once you open it..."
"Nothing will ever be the same."
I looked at her.
"It already isn't."
I entered the password.
The folder opened.
At the top of the screen was a video recorded nearly eight months earlier.
The thumbnail showed my mother standing in our living room.
Holding my son.
Shouting at Amy.
The recording was five hours long.
I pressed Play.
Within seconds...
The first words out of my mother's mouth made my blood run cold.
May you like
"As long as Connor keeps believing me..."
"Everything in this house belongs to me."
