Chapter 2 — What the Camera Saw

“I said I don’t want it.”

Vincent’s expression changed so quickly I might have missed it a day earlier.

His smile stayed.

His eyes didn’t.

“You barely ate dinner.”

“I wasn’t here for dinner.”

“Exactly.”

He held the mug out again.

I pushed myself farther up against the pillows.

“Leave it on the table.”

For several seconds, he watched me.

Then he set the mug down.

Relief came too soon.

His hand caught my jaw.

“Don’t make everything difficult tonight.”

I grabbed his wrist.

“Vincent, stop.”

“Open your mouth.”

Some of the broth spilled onto my shirt when I turned my head. He swore softly, tightened his grip, and forced the rim between my lips.

I swallowed because I couldn’t breathe.

When he released me, I bent forward coughing.

“There,” he said. “That wasn’t worth fighting over.”

I stared at the damp patch spreading across my chest.

He put the mug back on the tray.

“You’ve been strange all evening. Is this about Vivian?”

“I’m tired.”

“She’s had a long flight. Try to be kind.”

I didn’t answer.

He brushed his thumb over my cheek, the same cheek his fingers had just gripped.

Then he left.

I waited until I heard his footsteps disappear before reaching for my phone.

The screen blurred.

I blinked hard and typed Rachel’s name.

Broth. He made me—

My thumb missed the next letter.

I tried to call her instead.

The phone slipped against the blanket.

I remember the bedside lamp becoming too bright. I remember trying to sit upright, certain that if I could get my feet on the floor, I could still leave.

After that, there was nothing.

When I woke, sunlight cut across the carpet.

My phone was under my hip.

I had six missed calls from Rachel.

For a few seconds, I lay still and listened.

The shower was running in the bathroom.

Vincent.

I moved carefully, fighting the nausea that came with sitting up.

There was a bruise above my wrist. My jaw hurt when I swallowed.

I pulled the blanket higher before I understood why I wanted it there.

My unfinished message was still on the screen.

I sent Rachel two words.

I’m awake.

Her reply came immediately.

Are you alone?

Not yet.

I opened the camera app.

My finger hovered over the recording.

I knew that whatever was on it would still be there if I waited.

I also knew I would never forgive myself for looking away now.

I lowered the volume and pressed play.

The first minutes showed Vincent forcing the drink on me.

Watching it from across the room was worse than remembering it.

There was no misunderstanding in the angle of his hand.

No tenderness in the way he kept me still.

Later, the bedroom door opened.

Vincent came in with Vivian tucked beneath his arm.

She looked toward the bed.

“She’s really out?”

“Same as always.”

“Are you sure it’s enough?”

“She’s not waking up.”

I paused the recording.

The shower stopped.

I closed the app and placed my phone facedown.

Vincent came out tying his robe.

“Morning.”

I couldn’t answer.

He glanced at me.

“You look pale.”

“I didn’t sleep well.”

“You slept like a rock.”

He smiled at his own comment.

I held the edge of the blanket until my fingers ached.

“I have a meeting downtown,” he said. “Rest today.”

“What time are you back?”

“This afternoon. Why?”

“I was going to have Rachel visit.”

His mouth tightened.

“I’d rather not have people in the house while Vivian’s settling in.”

“Rachel isn’t people.”

“You know what I mean.”

He leaned over the bed.

I made myself stay still while he kissed my forehead.

It took everything I had not to shove him away.

When the gate finally opened for his car, I locked the bedroom door and called Rachel.

“I’m coming,” she said.

“No. Wait.”

“Claire—”

“I need you to stay where you are. I’m sending you something.”

“What?”

“Proof.”

I opened the recording again.

This time, I watched with the sound on.

Vivian had moved closer to the bed.

“She always gets to look innocent,” she said. “Everyone thinks she saved the family.”

Vincent glanced down at me.

“Everyone doesn’t know what she did to you.”

Something cold settled beneath my ribs.

“What if she remembers?”

“She won’t.”

“And after the baby?”

“We get the test results. Then she can explain to everyone why she’s carrying another man’s child.”

Vivian laughed.

It wasn’t loud.

That made it worse.

“She’ll say you set her up.”

“Who’s going to believe that?”

A man I didn’t recognize appeared in the doorway.

Vincent nodded toward the bed.

The man hesitated.

“Doesn’t this complicate the bet?”

“The baby’s already eight months along,” Vincent said. “It doesn’t change anything.”

I stopped watching when they left me alone with him.

There were things I did not need to replay to understand.

I saved the full recording anyway.

The file was too large to send as a message, so I shared access to the account with Rachel and asked her to download it.

While I waited, I put on fresh clothes.

I checked my stomach in the mirror, then rested my palm against it.

A small movement answered.

I cried then.

Quietly, because the house was not empty.

Not because I had done anything wrong.

Because the person who should have kept us safe had opened the door.

Rachel called back.

“I have it.”

“On your phone?”

“On my laptop too.”

“Don’t delete anything.”

“I won’t.”

Her voice broke on the last word.

I sat on the edge of the bed.

“He thinks I made Vivian leave.”

“What?”

“He said it in the recording. He thinks I forced her out of the country.”

“You helped her.”

“I know.”

I had booked Vivian’s flight. I had found her an apartment through a friend. She had told me she needed distance, that the family’s problems were swallowing her life.

She had cried in my kitchen.

She had asked me not to tell Vincent how frightened she was of losing everything.

I had protected her confidence.

Now my husband was punishing me for it.

“Tell him,” Rachel said.

“No.”

“He needs to know—”

“He watched someone walk into our bedroom last night.”

The line went quiet.

I wiped my face.

“I’m not explaining myself to him.”

“All right.”

“I need my passport.”

“And then you’re leaving.”

“Yes.”

This time, I meant it.

Rachel stayed on the phone while I found my passport and birth certificate.

I packed them beneath a cardigan in my overnight bag.

Downstairs, Vivian was on the terrace taking a call.

She looked through the glass as I passed.

I didn’t look back.

In the kitchen, I took the prenatal vitamins from a cupboard. My hands were still unsteady when I shook one into my palm.

“What are you taking?”

Vincent’s voice came from the doorway.

I turned too quickly.

The bottle hit the counter.

For a second, neither of us moved.

Then I picked it up and showed him the label.

“My vitamins.”

His shoulders loosened.

“Right.”

“I thought you had a meeting.”

“Forgot the ledger.”

He checked his watch, irritated with himself.

“Where’s Vivian?”

“Outside.”

He set his phone on the island and went upstairs.

I stared at it.

The screen had gone dark, but it wasn’t switched off.

I could hear his shoes on the stairs.

I picked up the phone.

Vivian’s birthday.

The same six digits he had put on the front door.

The screen unlocked.

My stomach tightened.

There was a second messaging app tucked inside a folder marked Business.

When I opened it, Vivian’s name sat at the top.

Beneath it was a group chat with twelve members.

The latest message had arrived less than a minute earlier.

Any chance we can move tonight up?

I tapped the conversation.

A spreadsheet filled the screen.

Across the top were the days of the month.

Under each date was a name.

Dominic.

Anthony.

Marcus.

Others I recognized from dinners, birthdays, men who had asked me how the baby was doing.

I scrolled back one month.

Then another.

The dates matched the mornings I had woken sick and confused.

The nights Vincent had insisted on bringing something upstairs himself.

I stopped breathing for a moment.

A new message appeared beneath the schedule.

Vincent, you need to stop changing the rotation. Some of us have been waiting.