Chapter 2: The Video They Couldn't Erase
For several seconds, nobody moved.
Red wine dripped from the edge of the table. Broken glass glittered beneath Gloria's chair. Somewhere in the living room, the grandfather clock chimed eight times.
I couldn't take my eyes off my daughter.
“What video, Maya?””
Victor recovered first.
“She doesn't know what she's talking about.””
Maya shook her head.
“I do.””
“Go upstairs,” he ordered.
“No.””
The word was small, but it changed the room.
Victor stared at her as though he'd never heard his daughter disobey him before.
“Maya. Upstairs. Now.””
She grabbed the back of her chair.
“Grandpa wasn't allowed to eat with us on Tuesday either.””
My father closed his eyes.
“And on Thursday,” Maya continued, her voice shaking, “Grandma took his dinner away because he spilled some soup.””
Gloria stood so quickly that her chair scraped across the floor.
“That is an outrageous lie!””
Maya started crying harder.
“You told me not to tell Mom!””
“Enough!”” Gloria shouted.
I stepped between them.
“Do not yell at my daughter.””
Gloria's mouth fell open.
“Excuse me?””
“You heard me.””
She pointed a manicured finger at Maya.
“This child is confused. She has been spending far too much time with that old man, and now she's repeating his nonsense.””
My father lifted his head.
“Please don't blame her.””
Victor turned on him.
“You've caused enough trouble tonight.””
“Victor,” I said quietly, “say one more threatening word to my father, and you'll regret it.””
My husband looked at me with an expression I'd never seen before.
Not love.
Not even anger.
Calculation.
He was deciding what he could get away with.
I held out my hand again.
“Phone. Now.””
He looked toward the hallway, then back at me.
“You're making a mistake.””
“Maybe. But I'm making it with my eyes open.””
He threw the phone onto the table.
It slid through the spilled wine and stopped beside the breadbasket.
I snatched it up.
The screen was cracked, but it still worked. I opened the security application and entered my password.
Victor stepped toward me.
I lifted the phone.
“Touch me again, and I'll call 911.””
He stopped.
The application loaded. Four camera views appeared, including the kitchen, living room, front entrance, and hallway outside my father's bedroom.
I selected the kitchen.
A calendar appeared.
I tapped Tuesday.
The video began at 6:14 p.m.
At first, nothing unusual happened. Victor entered the kitchen carrying a plate. Gloria followed with a saucepan. They spoke too quietly for the recording to capture every word.
Then Edward appeared.
He was wearing the same blue cardigan.
He held a folded napkin in one hand.
On the screen, he approached the table and pointed toward the remaining food.
I turned up the volume.
Gloria's recorded voice came through the phone.
“Not that. That's for Victor.””
Edward answered softly, “There's only a little left. I haven't eaten since lunch.””
“Then you should have eaten when we told you.””
“I was at my appointment.””
Victor entered the frame.
He took the plate from Edward's hands and scraped its contents into the trash.
My stomach tightened.
On the recording, my father stared at the empty plate.
“Please,” he said.
“Just a little bread.””
Gloria opened a drawer and pulled out a plastic container.
“Take this upstairs. And don't come back down while we're eating.””
She placed the container on the counter.
Inside were two cold scraps of chicken and a spoonful of mashed potatoes.
I pressed my fingers against my lips.
On the screen, Edward picked up the container.
Then Victor stepped closer to him.
“And if Danielle asks,” Victor said, “you tell her you already ate.””
My father nodded.
The video ended.
Nobody spoke.
I could hear my own heartbeat.
I replayed the last thirty seconds.
Then I turned toward my husband.
“You told him to lie to me.””
Victor rubbed his forehead.
“You're taking this out of context.””
“What context makes this acceptable?””
“He was being difficult.””
“He was hungry!””
“He'd already eaten earlier.””
“Then why did he ask for food?””
Victor opened his mouth and closed it again.
Gloria folded her arms.
“Your father has expensive tastes, Danielle. We can't indulge every demand he makes.””
I stared at her.
“Expensive tastes? You're feeding him leftovers while eating steak and roasted chicken?””
“He doesn't need the same meals we do.””
“Why not?””
“Because he's not contributing to the household!””
The words rang through the kitchen.
My father lowered his head.
I slowly turned toward Gloria.
“Not contributing?””
“He lives here,” she snapped.
“He uses the electricity, the water, the heating. He needs help getting around. Someone has to pay for all of that.””
“I pay for it.””
Gloria's expression faltered.
I continued.
“I pay the mortgage. I pay the utilities. I pay for groceries, Dad's medication, and his appointments. I have bank statements proving every dollar.””
Victor's face tightened.
“Money isn't the point.””
“Then what is?””
He didn't answer.
I opened the application again and selected Wednesday's footage.
Victor moved closer.
“Danielle, that's enough.””
I stepped away.
On Wednesday afternoon, the recording showed Gloria standing outside my father's bedroom with a laundry basket.
She knocked once, then entered without waiting.
A few minutes later, she emerged carrying my father's wallet.
I frowned.
“What is she doing with his wallet?””
Victor looked away.
The video continued.
Gloria walked into the kitchen, opened the wallet, removed several bills, and slipped them into her purse.
I stopped the footage.
“Why did you take Dad's money?””
Gloria's face turned crimson.
“I was holding it for him.””
“Then why didn't you tell me?””
“Because I don't report every household detail to you!””
I looked at my father.
“Dad, did you give Gloria permission to take money from your wallet?””
He hesitated.
“No.””
Victor slammed his palm against the table.
“This is ridiculous!””
I barely heard him.
I returned to the recording and skipped forward.
At 4:32 p.m., Gloria appeared again. She placed the wallet on the kitchen counter, removed a small envelope, and tucked it into her handbag.
Then she turned toward the camera.
She stared directly into the lens.
For three seconds, she didn't move.
Then she smiled.
Not a nervous smile.
Not the smile of someone caught doing something embarrassing.
It was the satisfied smile of someone who believed she had already won.
She reached up, covered the camera with a dish towel, and walked away.
I felt cold all over.
“Why did she cover it?”” I whispered.
Victor said nothing.
Maya suddenly grabbed my sleeve.
“Mom, that's not the video Grandma made Dad delete.””
I looked at her.
“There's another one?””
She nodded.
“I saw it on Dad's phone. Grandma was standing in Grandpa's room, and Grandpa was crying. Then Dad took the phone away from me.””
Victor lunged toward her.
“Stop lying!””
I stepped between them so fast that he nearly collided with me.
“Don't you dare.””
He stared at me.
For a moment, I thought he might push past me.
Then his phone vibrated on the counter.
The screen lit up.
A notification appeared from an unfamiliar number.
*DID YOU GET THE PAPERS SIGNED? SHE MUST NOT FIND OUT ABOUT THE HOUSE.*
My eyes fixed on the message.
The house.
My house?
I looked at Victor.
May you like
His face had gone completely white.
And for the first time that evening, Gloria looked genuinely frightened.
