Chapter 2: The Hidden Recording
I didn’t sleep that night.
Not because I was angry.
Anger would have been easier.
I couldn’t sleep because every memory I had of leaving my mother with Wendy suddenly felt different.
Every phone call.
Every photograph.
Every “Mom is doing great.””
They all felt like lies.
At 2:13 in the morning, I sat alone in my office with my laptop open.
The message from the unknown number was still there.
The picture attached showed a tiny camera hidden above the kitchen cabinet.
I stared at it for nearly five minutes.
Then I heard footsteps outside my door.
I quickly closed the laptop.
Wendy appeared in the doorway.
She looked tired, but not guilty.
That bothered me.
A person who had been caught hurting someone should look afraid.
Wendy looked offended.
“You’re really going to ignore me all night?””
I looked at her.
“You should be asking how my mother is.””
“She’s fine.””
“No.””
My voice was quiet.
“She’s not.””
Wendy crossed her arms.
“You’re making me the villain because you walked in during a bad moment.””
“A bad moment?””
“Yes.””
She stepped closer.
“Luca, I have spent months taking care of your mother.””
I almost laughed.
“Taking care?””
“Yes.””
“By locking food away?””
Her face changed for half a second.
Only half a second.
But I saw it.
Then the mask returned.
“You don’t understand what it’s like.””
“What?””
“Living with someone who refuses to listen.””
I stood up.
“You expect me to believe my mother just decided to starve herself?””
Wendy sighed.
“She exaggerates.””
That word.
Again.
Exaggerates.
Like my mother’s pain was an inconvenience.
Like her hunger was a performance.
I walked past Wendy without another word.
My mother was sleeping in the guest room.
Or pretending to.
When I opened the door, her eyes immediately opened.
“Luca?””
“I’m here, Mom.””
She looked away.
“You shouldn’t fight with Wendy because of me.””
Those words hurt more than anything else.
“Because of you?””
She nodded.
“I don’t want to ruin your marriage.””
I sat beside her.
“Mom, look at me.””
Slowly, she did.
“You didn’t ruin anything.””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“I tried to be easy to live with.””
“You shouldn’t have to earn kindness.””
She wiped her face.
Then she whispered:
“Luca…”
“What?””
“There are things I never told you.””
My heart started beating faster.
“What things?””
She looked toward the door.
Like she was afraid someone might hear.
“Wendy told me if I complained, you would send me away.””
My jaw tightened.
“She said that?””
Mom nodded.
“She said you were tired of taking care of me.””
I felt sick.
“Mom, I never said that.””
“I know that now.””
Her voice cracked.
“But after hearing it every day…”
She stopped.
I held her hand.
“What else?””
She hesitated.
Then reached under her pillow.
She pulled out a small folded piece of paper.
“I wrote things down.””
I opened it.
Dates.
Times.
Short sentences.
March 4.
“Wendy took my dinner away because I asked for more.””
March 11.
“She said I was lucky she allowed me to stay.””
March 18.
“She pushed me when I tried to open the pantry.””
My hands tightened around the paper.
“Why didn’t you tell me?””
She looked at me sadly.
“Because every time I tried, Wendy stood behind you smiling.””
The room felt colder.
I remembered those moments.
Wendy beside me.
Holding my arm.
Acting loving.
I thought she was supporting me.
I didn’t know she was making sure Mom stayed silent.
I went back to my office.
This time, I opened the laptop.
The hidden camera footage loaded.
The first video was from three weeks earlier.
I clicked play.
At first, nothing happened.
Then Wendy walked into the kitchen.
She wasn’t smiling.
She wasn’t pretending.
She opened the pantry.
Removed a plate of food.
And looked directly at my mother.
Even through the silent video, I could see the cruelty in her expression.
Then Wendy said something.
The audio was faint.
I turned up the volume.
And froze.
Because the next words came through clearly.
“You should remember who owns this house.””
I stopped breathing.
Then another voice appeared.
A man’s voice.
Not mine.
Someone standing behind Wendy.
Someone I hadn’t seen before.
Wendy turned around.
And smiled.
The man stepped into view.
And when I saw his face, I recognized him immediately.
He was the last person I expected to be involved.
My own brother.
May you like
Ethan.
And he was holding a folder with my name written across the front.
