Chapter 2: Secrets, Surveillance, and Betrayal

Early the next morning, I went straight to Best Buy and bought security cameras, installing them all over the house while no one was home.

I felt a little like a spy, screwing tiny cameras into corners and hiding wires behind bookshelves. If there was anything to catch, I’d catch it.

They’d better not give me anything to catch.

I double-checked the feeds on my phone, making sure every angle was covered. If they tried anything, I'd have proof.

Debbie was oddly well-behaved that day. After dinner, she even volunteered to do the dishes and cut up some cantaloupe.

She moved around the kitchen with forced cheer, humming a little tune as she worked. My dad looked pleased, as if everything was finally back to normal.

“Eddie, try some. My friend brought it from my hometown. It’s really sweet.”

She offered him a plate of neatly sliced cantaloupe, her eyes shining. My mom sat at the table, quietly watching.

My dad rarely ate fruit, but this time he dug in, praising, “So sweet and ripe. Delicious. Sit down and have some too.”

He waved her over, patting the seat beside him. Debbie slid in, her smile smug.

Debbie slid right in between my parents, sitting so close their legs touched.

She leaned in, her laughter a little too loud. I rolled my eyes, resisting the urge to say something snarky.

“Eddie, cantaloupe is full of vitamins. Eat more.”

She nudged his plate closer, as if she was his personal nutritionist. My mom looked away, her lips pressed tight.

My mom watched him eat, then warned, “Don’t eat too much. It’s high in sugar.”

She spoke softly, but there was a hint of steel in her voice. She knew my dad's medical history better than anyone.

My dad scowled. “You have to control everything. I can’t even eat fruit without you nagging. You never cut fruit for me anyway.”

He tossed his fork down, glaring at my mom. Debbie smirked, enjoying the show.

Debbie shot my mom a smug look. “She’s just busy.”

Her tone was syrupy, but her eyes glinted with triumph. I felt my fists clench under the table.

My dad snorted. “She sits at home all day and does nothing. What’s she busy with?”

His words hung in the air, cruel and careless. My mom shrank in her seat, her face flushing.

My mom mumbled but didn’t argue.

She picked at her napkin, her voice barely audible. I couldn't take it anymore.

I laughed coldly, pulling out a blood glucose meter. “Didn’t you say your blood sugar’s been high and you’ve been dizzy? Let’s check now.”

I set the meter on the table with a thud. "Come on, Dad. Let's see how you're doing."

Since I insisted, my dad didn’t argue.

He grumbled, pricking his finger and waiting for the beep. Debbie watched nervously, her hands fidgeting in her lap.

When the meter read 215, his face fell.

He stared at the screen, his jaw dropping. My mom looked at me, her eyes wide with concern.

Arms crossed, I said, “Dad’s blood sugar used to stay under 200. But since Aunt Debbie showed up, it’s over 215. Why aren’t you following Mom’s meal plan?”

I let my words sink in, watching Debbie squirm. My dad looked away, embarrassed.

Debbie looked flustered. “Your mom’s recipes are too complicated. I don’t have time for other chores.”

She twisted her napkin, her voice shaky. I raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

I tilted my head, like it had just clicked. “Oh, so Mom’s complicated recipes kept Dad healthy—no diabetes flare-ups for years.”

I shot Debbie a pointed look. She blushed, looking away.

Debbie’s face turned red, then she looked pitifully at my dad. “Eddie…”

She reached for his hand, her eyes pleading. My mom just watched, silent.

My dad stopped me. “Debbie’s just busy. No need to pick on her. She’s your aunt.”

He gave me a warning look, as if daring me to say more. I bit my tongue, but made a mental note to check the cameras later.

I glanced at their hands, naturally resting together, then at my mom, silently watching TV. I eyed the hidden cameras in the corner, hoping they’d catch something useful.

I leaned back, crossing my arms. The proof was coming. I just had to be patient.

That night, my mom spent ages comforting me in my room, worried I’d stay mad at my dad. When she left, she only half-closed the door, not wanting to disturb my reading.

She fussed over my blankets, bringing me a cup of tea and tucking a strand of hair behind my ear. "Don't be too hard on your dad, Haley. He's just confused."

Just as I finished my book and was about to sleep, I heard rustling outside.

I froze, listening. The house was quiet except for the faint creak of footsteps in the hallway.

My parents’ room was downstairs, Debbie’s next to mine. Why was she still up so late?

I tiptoed to the door, holding my breath, my heart thudding in my chest.

I quietly turned off the lights and opened my door, just in time to see my dad sneaking up the stairs and slipping into Debbie’s room without even knocking.

He moved like a teenager breaking curfew, careful not to make a sound. The door closed behind him, leaving the hallway dark and silent.

My mind exploded.

A thousand thoughts raced through my head, each one worse than the last. My hands shook with anger.

Three seconds later, I grabbed my phone, switched to video mode, and crept to Debbie’s door. My dad hadn’t closed it all the way, worried the noise would wake me.

I pressed myself against the wall, my phone recording. Their voices drifted through the crack in the door, low and intimate.

Inside, Debbie nestled in his arms, speaking coyly. “Eddie, your daughter’s so thoughtless. No wonder you don’t like her.”

Her voice was syrupy sweet, the kind that made my skin crawl. My dad stroked her hair, murmuring reassurances.

“Don’t worry. She’s never been close to me. She’ll be gone soon.”

He sounded almost relieved, like he couldn't wait for me to leave again.

My dad hugged her, barely able to contain himself. “When you give me a son, everything will be perfect.”

His words made my stomach turn. Debbie giggled, running her fingers through his hair.

“Oh, you’re so bad. I want to give you a son too. You’ll take care of both of us, right?”

She leaned in, her voice barely a whisper. My dad nodded, his eyes shining.

She went on, “And let your daughter—my niece—see what the real world is like. Eddie, you’ll do anything I ask, won’t you?”

Her words dripped with malice, her smile cruel. I clenched my fists, fighting the urge to burst in.

Listening outside, I wanted to puke.

I pressed a hand to my mouth, swallowing back bile. The betrayal was almost too much to bear.

So this is what Debbie was after!

I finally saw her for what she was—a manipulator, a liar, a thief.

“Of course. As long as you give me a son, I’ll throw her out with nothing—divorce and marry you!”

My dad laughed. “Anything you want, you’ll have!”

His laughter was cold, hollow. I felt my heart break a little more.

Perfect.

I thought, bitterly. This was all the proof I needed.

They were already plotting to kick my mom out with nothing.

I pressed record for another minute, my hands shaking. I’d never felt so angry—or so determined.

I forced myself to record three minutes of video, then went back to my room and messaged my friend Sarah in law school, sending her a Starbucks e-gift card. “Sarah, I have video of my dad cheating. Can my mom get everything in a divorce?”

My fingers flew across the screen, my heart pounding. Sarah replied almost instantly.

She replied, “It’s tough. You can file on fault and push for a better settlement.”

Her text was blunt, but honest. I appreciated that.

I asked about any waiting period for divorce, and about property division since my mom had been a housewife for years. She said she’d get about a third.

Sarah sent a long message, outlining the process. "She'll get a fair share, but it's not easy. The video helps, but don't expect miracles."

I thanked her, looked at the three-minute video, and hesitated before deciding not to show it to my mom yet.

I tucked my phone under my pillow, staring at the ceiling. My mom didn't need this pain—not yet.