Chapter 3 - The Camera in My BedroomThe police returned to my penthouse that afternoon.
I stayed in the car.
I didn't want to go inside.
Not yet.
Detective Morales met me downstairs.
“We found the footage.”
“From the kitchen?”
“Yes.”
“Does it show everything?”
“Enough.”
I nodded.
“What about the rest of the apartment?”
His expression changed.
“We found something else.”
“What?”
“A hidden camera.”
My blood turned cold.
“Where?”
“In the master bedroom.”
I couldn't speak.
“It's disguised as a smoke detector.”
I covered my mouth.
Someone had been watching me in my own bedroom.
For how long?
“Do you know who installed it?”
“We're investigating.”
“Ryan?”
“We don't know yet.”
I stared at the building.
“My husband has been sleeping in that room.”
“Yes.”
“Then why would he need a camera?”
Morales looked at me.
“Maybe he wasn't the only one watching.”
That sentence followed me for hours.
Marcus eventually explained that the camera had been transmitting to an external server.
They were trying to recover the data.
Meanwhile, my phone kept filling with messages.
Ryan.
Diane.
Brooke.
Even Grant.
They all wanted me to come home.
None apologized.
Instead, they blamed me.
You embarrassed the family.
Your behavior is unacceptable.
You need to calm down.
Dad didn't mean to hurt you.
Ryan was only trying to stop you from making things worse.
I read every message.
Then deleted none of them.
Marcus told me to preserve everything.
So I created a folder.
Evidence.
Every message went inside.
Every email.
Every photograph.
Every financial statement.
Every threat.
By evening, the police had obtained a warrant for Grant's office.
They found records.
Lots of them.
A private investigator had been paid monthly.
The payments began seven months before my pregnancy.
I stared at the date.
That was when I first noticed Ryan becoming distant.
When I asked him about it, he said he was stressed at work.
He wasn't.
He was preparing.
Then the investigators found something even worse.
A draft letter.
It was addressed to me.
The document was titled:
Notice of Incompetency.
They had been preparing to declare me mentally unfit.
I stared at it.
“What?”
Marcus explained.
“They planned to use your medical condition and pregnancy as evidence that you were unable to manage your assets.”
I laughed in disbelief.
“My illness?”
“Yes.”
“I wasn't mentally ill.”
“I know.”
“But they were going to say I was unstable.”
“Exactly.”
I looked at the document.
The lies were carefully written.
“She exhibits emotional volatility.”
“She has become increasingly irrational.”
“She is experiencing severe stress.”
“They're building a case.”
“For what?”
“Guardianship.”
I felt sick.
If they succeeded, someone else could control my finances.
Possibly Ryan.
Possibly Grant.
And the money would flow exactly where they wanted.
I leaned back.
“How long have they been planning this?”
“Based on the documents, at least a year.”
A year.
I remembered every argument.
Every time Ryan called me dramatic.
Every time he told his parents I was difficult.
Every time Diane said pregnancy had made me emotional.
They weren't random comments.
They were building a narrative.
A narrative they intended to use against me.
Then Detective Morales walked into the room.
“We found the person who installed the camera.”
“Who?”
“A contractor.”
“Did he say who hired him?”
“Yes.”
My heart pounded.
“Who?”
Morales placed a photograph on the table.
It was Ryan.
Standing beside the contractor.
The date was eight months earlier.
I stared at the picture.
Ryan had lied to me.
Again.
And again.
And again.
But the detective wasn't finished.
“The contractor also told us the camera wasn't the only thing he installed.”
“What else?”
“A tracking device.”
“On what?”
“My car?”
Morales shook his head.
“Your prenatal medical records.”
I stared at him.
“They were monitoring my pregnancy?”
“Yes.”
Suddenly, the cigarette burn felt different.
It hadn't been an isolated act of cruelty.
It had been part of something much larger.
They had been watching me.
Studying me.
May you like
Waiting.
And now they knew I was fighting back.
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