Chapter 2: The Video Nobody Was Supposed to See
“Caleb, put that tablet down.””
Dad's voice was calm.
Too calm.
He stepped toward my brother, holding out one hand as if he were trying to coax a frightened animal.
“Come here, son. You've had a long evening.””
Caleb backed away.
“I want everyone to see it.””
“You don't understand what you're holding.””
“I understand perfectly.””
Sloane grabbed my arm.
“June, tell him to stop.””
I looked at her.
A moment earlier, she had been laughing while demanding I expose my scars.
Now her fingers trembled against my skin.
“Why?”” I asked.
She released me.
“Because he's making a scene.””
I glanced at the two hundred guests.
“Isn't that what you wanted?””
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Aunt Meredith stepped between Caleb and Dad.
“Richard, I think we should hear what the boy has to say.””
My father gave her a cold look.
“This is a private family matter.””
Meredith folded her arms.
“Then perhaps you should have treated it like one when you blamed your daughter in front of the entire town.””
Several guests exchanged uncomfortable glances.
Dad's face hardened.
“Stay out of this.””
“No,” Meredith replied.
“I've stayed out of it for eight months. I'm finished doing that.””
I had always loved Aunt Meredith.
She was my mother's younger sister, and she had been the only person who visited me consistently during my recovery.
When Mom had stopped coming to the hospital, Meredith had slept in the uncomfortable chair beside my bed.
When I cried because I couldn't move my left arm, she helped me with my physical therapy exercises.
When Dad refused to pay for additional rehabilitation, she covered the difference.
And when I returned home, she had quietly told me something I never forgot.
“You don't have to forgive people just because they're related to you.””
Now she stood beside Caleb, refusing to move.
“Show them, sweetheart,” she said.
Caleb unlocked the tablet.
The screen was cracked along one corner. A faded sticker of a cartoon astronaut covered the back.
It was the same tablet he had used at the cottage.
He swiped through several folders.
Then he stopped.
“Here.””
A video appeared.
The image was dark and grainy, but I recognized the room immediately.
The cottage's kitchen.
The old wooden cabinets.
The refrigerator covered in Caleb's drawings.
The video timestamp read 9:42 p.m.
The night of the fire.
Caleb pressed play.
At first, there was only the sound of someone moving around.
Then a voice.
Sloane's voice.
“Are you sure you put it there?””
The camera shifted.
A silver bracelet appeared in the corner of the frame.
I recognized it immediately.
Sloane had received it for Christmas.
Dad's voice followed.
“Just leave it alone.””
“Dad, you said nobody would find out.””
“Because nobody will.””
The camera tilted toward the kitchen counter.
I leaned forward.
“What is that?”” I whispered.
A small metal container sat beside the stove.
My father stepped toward the tablet.
“Turn it off.””
Meredith blocked him.
“Don't touch him.””
The video continued.
Sloane appeared in the frame.
She was wearing the same silver bracelet.
Her voice sounded irritated.
“You said June would take care of everything.””
Dad answered quietly.
“She'll do what she's told.””
Then came a sound.
A sharp metallic click.
The video froze.
Caleb looked up.
“That's where it stops.””
Dad exhaled.
“That's not proof of anything.””
I stared at the screen.
“What did she mean?””
Nobody answered.
I turned toward Sloane.
“What did you mean when you said I'd take care of everything?””
She shook her head.
“I don't know.””
“You said my name.””
“I was talking about something else!””
“What something else?””
Her eyes filled with tears.
“June, please.””
The sudden softness in her voice almost made me angrier.
For months, she had watched people mock me.
She had shared photographs of my recovery brace in our school group chat. She had told classmates that my scars were punishment for being careless.
Once, when I returned to school, she had moved my chair away from the lunch table because she didn't want people asking questions.
And now she wanted me to protect her.
Dad took another step forward.
“Everyone needs to leave.””
A man near the outdoor bar raised his hand.
“Richard, I think we should wait for the authorities.””
Dad turned sharply.
“Excuse me?””
The man introduced himself as Mark Ellis, a family friend and former fire investigator.
He had known my father for nearly fifteen years.
He looked at the tablet.
“Was this recording recovered from the fire scene?””
Caleb nodded.
“I found it in the storage room. The tablet was inside a metal box.””
Mark crouched beside him.
“Did you watch the whole thing?””
“Not until today.””
“Why?””
Caleb glanced at me.
“Because I was scared.””
My throat tightened.
“What were you scared of?””
He looked down.
“Dad told me not to talk about the fire.””
Dad interrupted.
“I told him not to obsess over something he couldn't understand.””
Caleb shook his head.
“You said June would be taken away if I told.””
The words hit me like a physical blow.
I stepped toward my brother.
“Caleb, look at me.””
He raised his eyes.
“You're not in trouble.””
“Promise?””
I took his free hand.
“I promise.””
His lower lip trembled.
“I didn't know how to help you.””
I pulled him gently against my side.
“You already helped me more than you know.””
For a moment, the party disappeared.
There was only my brother's shaking shoulders and the warmth of his hand.
Then Mark spoke again.
“There's something else.””
He pointed at the screen.
“Can you open the original file information?””
Caleb nodded.
He tapped the details icon.
A list appeared.
The recording had been copied to the tablet at 10:03 p.m. on the night of the fire.
But there was another entry.
A second video.
Timestamp: 10:17 p.m.
Caleb frowned.
“I didn't see that one.””
Dad moved so quickly that Meredith barely had time to react.
He reached for the tablet.
I stepped in front of him.
“Don't.””
His eyes narrowed.
“Move, June.””
“No.””
“I'm your father.””
“And I'm your daughter.””
For a second, we stared at each other.
Then he lowered his voice.
“You have no idea what you're doing.””
I felt the old fear rise in my chest.
The same fear I had felt whenever he entered my hospital room.
The same fear that had made me stop asking questions.
But I didn't move.
Caleb opened the second file.
The screen showed a different camera angle.
This time, it was pointed toward the cottage's back hallway.
A figure entered the frame.
Someone wearing a dark jacket.
Someone carrying a red gasoline container.
I felt the blood drain from my face.
Mark leaned closer.
“Pause it.””
Caleb did.
The figure turned slightly toward the camera.
A silver bracelet flashed beneath the sleeve.
Sloane made a small choking sound.
“That isn't—”
But she stopped.
Because the figure had turned far enough for the camera to catch her face.
It was Sloane.
My twin sister.
May you like
Holding the gasoline container.
And standing behind her was my father.
