Chapter 2: The Camera in the Kitchen
I didn't sleep that night.
Noah fell asleep beside me in my bedroom, still wearing his clothes. Every time he moved, I pulled the blanket over his shoulders.
At 1:17 a.m., I finally got up.
Vanessa was asleep in our bedroom.
I sat at the kitchen island with my laptop and opened the security camera application.
I'd installed cameras throughout the common areas six months earlier after a package disappeared from our front porch.
There was one in the kitchen.
One facing the dining room.
And one covering the hallway leading upstairs.
I had never bothered checking the recordings regularly.
That night, I watched every minute.
I started with the previous evening.
At 5:42 p.m., Vanessa entered the kitchen carrying grocery bags.
She removed two steaks, a container of shrimp, fresh vegetables, and a package of garlic bread.
At 6:03, Madison and Tyler came downstairs.
Vanessa served them first.
Then she prepared a third plate for herself.
Noah appeared at the kitchen doorway.
"Vanessa, can I have some steak?""
She didn't even turn around.
"There's rice in the refrigerator.""
"But I'm still hungry.""
"I said there's rice.""
Noah stood there for several seconds.
Then he opened the refrigerator, removed a plastic container, and placed it in the microwave.
The recording had no sound from that angle, but I could see his face.
He looked toward the dining room.
The three of them were laughing.
He carried his rice upstairs.
I paused the video.
My jaw hurt from clenching it.
I moved to the previous week.
The same thing happened.
And the week before that.
On one recording, Vanessa took a chicken breast from a plate Noah had prepared for himself and placed it on Tyler's dinner plate.
"Mom, that's mine," Noah said.
Vanessa pointed toward the refrigerator.
"Then make yourself something else.""
Madison laughed.
Noah quietly returned to his chair.
I pressed my fingers against my forehead.
Four months.
Four months of my son being treated like an unwanted guest while I worked overtime to support everyone in that house.
Then I noticed something else.
The camera showed Vanessa entering the kitchen at 10:36 p.m. on a Tuesday.
She checked the hallway.
Then she took a small envelope from the drawer beside the refrigerator.
She opened it and removed several papers.
I zoomed in.
It was a bank statement.
She placed it on the counter and photographed it with her phone.
Then she called someone.
I increased the volume.
"Daniel, I need you to stop delaying this," she said.
A man's voice came through the phone.
"Vanessa, I told you I'm handling it.""
"Michael is starting to ask questions.""
"Then keep him busy.""
"How much longer?""
"Until the final transfer clears.""
Vanessa lowered her voice.
"And Noah?""
There was a pause.
"Don't worry about the kid. Once everything is settled, Michael will have no reason to keep him.""
I stopped breathing.
The video continued.
Vanessa laughed quietly.
"Good. Because I'm tired of pretending he's my responsibility.""
I replayed those words three times.
Then I downloaded the recording.
My phone buzzed.
A message from Daniel.
Hey, big brother. You awake? Need to talk about something important tomorrow.
I stared at the screen.
He knew.
Somehow, he knew I'd discovered the transfer.
I didn't reply.
Instead, I opened the account documents.
The education trust had originally been established by Emily's attorney. Daniel had been appointed as a secondary financial administrator because I was working long hours and wanted someone I trusted to help monitor the account.
But he wasn't supposed to make withdrawals without my written approval.
I checked the transfer details.
The $68,000 had gone into an account under a business name.
D&M Property Solutions LLC.
The name meant nothing to me.
Then I searched my email for the company.
Three months earlier, Daniel had sent me a message about an investment opportunity.
He'd claimed he was purchasing a small commercial property and needed temporary funding.
I'd refused.
He'd responded with a joke about me being too cautious.
Now I understood why he'd been so interested in Noah's inheritance.
At 2:08 a.m., I heard footsteps.
I closed the laptop.
Vanessa appeared in the kitchen wearing her silk robe.
"What are you doing up?""
"Couldn't sleep.""
She opened the refrigerator.
"You're making this whole thing bigger than it needs to be.""
I looked at her.
"Where did Noah's money go?""
She closed the refrigerator.
"Daniel is investing it.""
"Without my permission?""
"He has experience.""
"He's my brother, not the owner of my son's inheritance.""
She rolled her eyes.
"Michael, you're being dramatic. The money isn't gone.""
"Then why did you tell him to keep me busy until the final transfer cleared?""
Her hand froze on the refrigerator handle.
For one second, her face revealed everything.
Then she recovered.
"What are you talking about?""
I leaned back.
"I think you know.""
She stepped closer.
"Listen carefully. You work all day, and you have no idea what happens in this house. I've sacrificed everything to make this family work.""
"By starving my son?""
"Nobody is starving him!""
"Then why is he eating rice alone in his bedroom?""
She folded her arms.
"Because he's difficult.""
I stood.
"He's eleven years old.""
"And he's not the only child in this family!""
I stared at her for a long moment.
Then I said something I hadn't planned to say.
"I'm checking every account, every document, and every camera recording.""
Her expression hardened.
"Do whatever you want.""
She turned toward the hallway.
But before she disappeared, she stopped.
"Oh, and Michael?""
I looked up.
"Daniel is coming over tomorrow. You should probably hear his side before you destroy this marriage over a misunderstanding.""
She walked away.
I waited until her bedroom door closed.
Then I opened the kitchen camera again.
Something had caught my attention in the recording.
At 10:36 p.m., Vanessa hadn't just taken a bank statement from the drawer.
She'd also removed a second envelope.
One with my name written across the front.
May you like
And underneath it, in handwriting I recognized immediately, were the words:
*NOAH'S CUSTODY PAPERS.*
