Chapter 2 - THE FOOTAGE THAT MADE EVERYTHING WORSE
Grant took Noah upstairs while Tessa was checked at an urgent-care clinic.
The pediatrician found no obvious serious injury but instructed Grant to monitor Noah closely and bring him in immediately if anything changed.
Vivienne remained downstairs.
She called her attorney before Grant came back.
That told him something.
Not necessarily guilt.
But calculation.
Grant opened the security app.
The first clip showed Tessa stepping toward Vivienne.
Then the slap.
The second showed Vivienne grabbing the vase.
The camera had captured the retaliation.
It had not captured the beginning.
The place where Noah had been crawling sat just outside the current field of view.
Grant stared at the screen.
“That camera used to see the entire sofa.”
Vivienne folded her arms.
“You change settings constantly.”
“No, I don’t.”
“You’re blaming me because your employee hit me?”
“She says you kicked my son.”
“She’s lying.”
Grant looked at her.
Vivienne’s voice softened.
“Grant, think.”
She touched her cheek.
“She hates me.”
That accusation was not new.
For six months, Vivienne had complained that Tessa ignored her requests, undermined her with Noah, and acted like she was protecting Grant’s late wife’s place in the house.
Tessa had been hired by Emma Mercer when Noah was three months old.
Emma died unexpectedly from a cardiac complication seven months later.
Afterward, Tessa stayed.
She knew which song calmed Noah.
Which bottle he preferred.
Which nights Grant woke at two in the morning and sat on the nursery floor because grief made sleep impossible.
Vivienne entered Grant’s life four months after Emma’s death.
Too quickly, his sister had said.
Grant had ignored her.
Vivienne made the house feel alive again.
She made him laugh.
She did not treat him like a widower made of glass.
But Tessa never warmed to her.
Grant had assumed it was loyalty to Emma.
Now he was no longer sure.
He checked the camera settings.
The viewing angle had been changed at 2:17 that afternoon.
Grant had been downtown.
Tessa had taken Noah for a walk.
Vivienne had been home.
He looked at her.
“Did you move the camera?”
“No.”
“Someone did.”
Vivienne’s expression hardened.
“You’re seriously interrogating me?”
Grant said nothing.
Then his phone buzzed.
Tessa.
Not a call.
A photograph.
Taken that morning.
The living room.
The sofa.
The security camera.
And its original angle.
May you like
Beneath it, one message:
I took this because it happened again.
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