Chapter 4: What The Camera Saw
I didn’t sleep.
Neither did Claire.
Neither did Maya.
The three of us sat in my office while the twins slept upstairs.
A strange thing happened when fear entered a room.
People stopped pretending.
Claire sat on the couch, arms crossed, trying to look composed.
Maya sat near the door, ready to leave.
And I sat at my desk staring at the USB drive.
A piece of plastic.
A few grams.
Something small enough to fit in my hand.
Yet somehow it felt heavier than anything I had ever held.
I plugged it into my laptop.
The folder opened.
There were dozens of files.
Dates.
Times.
My stomach tightened.
Most were from days I was traveling.
I clicked the first one.
The nursery appeared.
Maya was there.
Holding Lily.
Nothing strange.
I clicked another.
Maya feeding Emma.
Another.
Maya changing diapers.
I looked at Claire.
“Where are the bad parts?””
She didn’t answer.
I clicked the next file.
And everything changed.
The nursery door opened.
Claire walked in.
She wasn’t smiling.
She wasn’t the woman I knew.
She looked angry.
The video had no sound.
But I could read lips.
Claire said something.
Maya turned.
Then Claire pointed toward the door.
Maya looked confused.
The video ended.
I clicked another.
Same day.
Later.
Claire standing over Maya.
Maya crying.
I stopped.
“Turn it off.””
Everyone looked at me.
Claire.
Maya.
I stared at my wife.
“What was she saying?””
Claire looked away.
“I don’t know.””
“You were there.””
“It’s edited.””
Maya whispered:
“It isn’t.””
I played another.
This time there was sound.
Claire’s voice filled the office.
“You think you’re important because my daughters smile at you?””
I felt cold.
The video continued.
Maya’s voice shook.
“Mrs. Carter, I don’t understand.””
“You’re trying to take my place.””
“No.””
“Yes.””
A pause.
Then Claire said something that made my hands go numb.
“They don’t need you.””
Maya answered:
“They’re babies. They need everyone who loves them.””
Claire stepped closer.
“You don’t love them.””
The video ended.
Nobody spoke.
Finally, Claire said:
“That proves nothing.””
I looked at her.
“What?””
“She was provoking me.””
“You told her she couldn’t love our children.””
“She’s not their mother.””
The words were quiet.
But cruel.
I closed the laptop.
“Claire.””
“What?””
“What happened tonight?””
She stood.
“I already told you.””
“No.””
My voice hardened.
“You told me what you wanted me to believe.””
Her eyes narrowed.
“Are you accusing me?””
I looked at the woman I married.
“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.””
That was the first honest thing I had said all night.
Claire’s expression changed.
May you like
Pain.
Anger.
