Chapter 8 - THE CAMERA REMEMBERED EVERYTHING
We watched the footage at Martin's office.
The recording began at 1:43 in the morning.
I was asleep.
Derek entered the frame wearing his wedding shirt.
He walked toward my suitcase.
Opened it.
Searched the pockets.
Then removed my passport.
For almost five minutes, he photographed every page.
My mother whispered my name.
I could not answer.
The footage continued.
Derek opened my clutch.
Removed my phone.
Pressed my sleeping thumb against the screen.
The device unlocked.
My stomach twisted.
He sat beside me on the bed.
He opened my email.
My banking apps.
My insurance account.
Then he photographed documents.
Finally, he opened my corporate authentication app.
That explained everything.
The attempted password resets.
The beneficiary request.
The asset searches.
He had used my fingerprint while I slept.
Martin paused the video.
“This is enough.”
“Keep watching.”
My voice surprised even me.
We continued.
At 2:31, Brenda entered the bedroom.
She did not knock.
She whispered something to Derek.
The camera's microphone caught it.
“Did you find the trust?”
“Not yet.”
“She has to have something.”
“Her father wouldn't let her marry without protecting the money.”
Derek sounded annoyed.
“I'll get it.”
Brenda moved closer.
“Don't lose your temper tomorrow.”
“You need her calm.”
“I know.”
“No scenes until we understand what she owns.”
Derek laughed quietly.
“She isn't going anywhere.”
Brenda replied.
“Good.”
“Once she's embarrassed in front of everyone, she'll learn quickly.”
My father stopped the recording.
The room fell silent.
The grease.
The rag.
The order to kneel.
It had not been spontaneous.
It had been planned.
A public test.
They wanted to see whether I would submit.
Whether I would accept humiliation to preserve the marriage.
If I had dropped to the floor and cleaned Brenda's mess, they would have learned something about me.
Instead, I had learned everything about them.
Martin saved three copies of the footage.
Then an investigator named Detective Sloan arrived.
She watched the critical portions without expression.
When it ended, she looked at me.
“Mrs. Matthews.”
“Chloe.”
She nodded.
“Chloe, I need to ask you a difficult question.”
“Go ahead.”
“Were you given any medication that evening?”
“No.”
Then I remembered the champagne.
At midnight, Derek had insisted I drink one final glass.
He had carried it upstairs.
I remembered feeling unusually tired.
I had blamed the wedding.
Sloan saw my face.
“What?”
“I fell asleep almost instantly.”
“Is that normal after alcohol?”
“I barely drank.”
“Maybe half a glass.”
Martin looked at Sloan.
She wrote something down.
“Do you still have the glass?”
“No.”
Then I remembered.
Derek had placed the empty flute on the bathroom counter.
When I returned earlier that day, the room had been spotless.
Someone had removed it.
Sloan closed her notebook.
“We'll look into it.”
My phone rang.
This time it was Mallory.
Derek's sister.
I almost rejected the call.
Then something told me not to.
I answered.
She was crying.
“Chloe.”
“What happened?”
“You need to come get me.”
“Why?”
Her voice dropped.
“Because Mom knows I talked.”
My blood turned cold.
“Talked about what?”
“The loan.”
“The forged documents.”
Everything went silent.
Then Mallory whispered.
May you like
“And Derek just found out I've been keeping copies.”
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