Chapter 7: The Hidden Footage
Chapter 7: The Hidden Footage
The next morning, the sun rose over Lake Michigan, casting a bright, optimistic light into Maya’s hospital room. She was looking better already, the pale, grayish tint leaving her skin as the IV fluids did their work. She was sitting up, quietly eating a warm plate of scrambled eggs and buttered toast, savoring every bite.
My phone vibrated in my pocket. It was a secure, encrypted link from Vance.
I stepped into the hallway, ensuring Maya couldn't see my screen, and opened the file. It was a compilation of the interior security camera footage from the past three months, meticulously curated by Vance's team. Eleanor had repeatedly complained about the cameras invading her privacy, so I told her I had them turned off. I lied. I merely disabled the red recording lights.
I watched the video clips, and my stomach churned with a nauseating mix of horror and violent anger.
Clip one: Eleanor eating a lavish, catered lunch at the kitchen island while forcing Maya to scrub the grout on the kitchen floor with a toothbrush, berating her every time she paused to rest.
Clip two: Eleanor snatching a fresh apple out of Maya's hand after school, throwing it violently into the trash, and yelling that she didn't deserve snacks because she was a "burden."
Clip three: Eleanor aggressively grabbing Maya by the shoulders and shoving her into the dark pantry when the doorbell rang, explicitly threatening to lock her in the basement overnight if she made a single sound while guests were over.
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It wasn't just neglect. It was systematic, calculated, sadistic psychological torture. She hated Maya because Maya was a living, breathing reminder of Sarah, the woman I had truly loved.
I forwarded the file directly to Dr. Evans and the Special Victims Unit of the local police department.
