Chapter 2: The Camera Never Lies

With nowhere to go, I ended up at an all-night coffee shop and, by chance, found a folder in my email.

The place was dead, just a couple students hunched over laptops and a barista wiping down counters. I ordered a black coffee and scrolled through my phone, desperate for distraction. That’s when I saw it—the folder I’d nearly forgotten about.

A few years ago, for safety, Autumn had asked me to have cameras installed.

She’d been worried about break-ins, insisted we needed extra security. I set up the cameras myself, linked them to my email. She never changed the passwords.

I tried logging in, and to my surprise, the cameras were still accessible—she’d forgotten to revoke my access.

My hands shook as I typed in the old credentials. The feed loaded—grainy at first, then crystal clear. A surge of adrenaline hit me—part fear, part curiosity.

Damn! It’s like the evidence just landed in my lap.

I almost laughed at how ridiculous it was. Here I was, drinking burnt coffee in a twenty-four-hour diner, about to play detective in my own relationship.

Without hesitation, I pulled up the history.

I clicked through archived footage, scanning for anything weird. My heart raced as the timeline skipped forward, day by day.

Sure enough, what I saw on the screen left me frozen.

There she was—Autumn, her belly swollen, moving slow around the living room. She winced as she bent over, one hand on her back.

It was Autumn, heavily pregnant, holding her waist as she struggled to clean the living room.

She looked exhausted, worn out. I watched her pause, wipe sweat from her brow, then shuffle toward the bedroom. My stomach twisted.

Later, about a month ago, her belly suddenly went flat.

The next clip showed her thinner, moving more easily. I checked the dates—it lined up. The baby was already born.

By then, they already had a baby—and they’d kept it hidden.

My head spun. I felt like I’d been punched in the gut—again. How could I have missed this?

I smacked myself on the head a couple of times, cursing my own stupidity.

I muttered, probably loud enough for the barista to hear. I didn’t care. I deserved it.

How could I only find out after the kid was already born?

I raked my hands through my hair, frustration boiling over. All those months apart, all those excuses—she’d been hiding a whole other life.

After calming down, I started frantically taking screenshots.

I snapped photo after photo, my phone filling up with proof. I didn’t know what I’d do with it, but I needed something—anything—to hold onto.

My finger slipped, and I accidentally switched to the live feed.

The screen flickered, and suddenly I was watching her apartment in real time. My heart jumped into my throat.

Just as I was about to close it, a man in his fifties appeared behind the door.

He stepped into view, slow and deliberate. He looked totally out of place—too old, too comfortable. My stomach dropped.

The high-def camera showed his thinning hair and bloated, greasy face. I felt my skin crawl just looking at him.

He wore a cheap suit, the kind you grab off a clearance rack, and his face was shiny with sweat. I felt a wave of revulsion.

What the hell? Where’d this creep come from?

I leaned closer, trying to place him. Not a neighbor, not a friend. Who the hell was this guy?

As much as I wanted Autumn to pay, I didn’t want her getting hurt in my apartment.

Not like this. I hesitated, finger hovering over the call button. Whatever she’d done, I didn’t want her in danger. Not in my place.

I pulled out my phone to call the cops.

I dialed 911, my thumb trembling. But before I could hit send, something on the screen made me freeze.

But before I could, Autumn rushed over to the man, grabbed his arm, and kissed him!

I watched, stunned, as she wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him close. He kissed her back, his hands roaming over her waist. My jaw just dropped.

I was completely dumbfounded.

Mouth open, frozen. It was like watching a car crash in slow motion—horrifying, but I couldn’t look away.

She dumped me and cheated with this disgusting old man?

Anger flared, hotter than before. I’d worried about her, cared for her—and this is what she was doing behind my back?

Seriously? She was that desperate? Even a guy like him was good enough?

Was it money? Power? Or was I just that easy to fool?

Their show lasted two hours.

I watched the clock tick by, unable to look away. Every minute felt like an hour. I felt sick, but I couldn’t stop.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away, even though I wanted to puke. My eyes burned, my body numb. I sipped my cold coffee, feeling more and more exhausted.

Finally, during a tender moment, the balding guy spoke up:

"Autumn, it’s been so long since the baby was born, and you still haven’t gone to see him."

His voice was low, almost gentle. He stroked her hair, and she leaned into him, sighing.

He sighed and pulled Autumn into his arms.

She melted against him, eyes closing. I felt a wave of nausea.

"In the end, we met too late, and the child had to suffer for it."

He sounded almost regretful, like any of this was out of his control. I wanted to reach through the screen and shake him.

"It’s only because you won’t divorce your wife. She’s never even given you a child all these years."

Autumn’s voice was small, almost pleading. She clung to him, face buried in his chest.

"If you divorced her, I’d marry you tomorrow. Then our child wouldn’t be illegitimate."

She sniffled, voice breaking. I almost felt sorry for her—almost.

Boss?

The word echoed in my mind. I tried to remember if she’d ever mentioned someone like this before.

So it was her old boss, Mr. Whitaker.

Of course. Figures. The name hit me like a lightning bolt. I’d met him once at a company barbecue—he seemed harmless enough. Guess I was wrong.

No wonder she got a pass for three months without the health screening—her affair was with her boss.

It all made sense now. Missed appointments, special treatment. I felt like an idiot.

Ugh. She couldn’t even hold a normal job without stirring up drama.

I shook my head, disgusted. She always found a way to complicate things, to make everything about her.

What a perfect match—sleazeball and gold digger.

I almost laughed at the absurdity. They deserved each other—two snakes in the same pit.

"Don’t be ridiculous, Autumn."

Mr. Whitaker pulled Autumn close.

He smoothed her hair, voice syrupy and fake. I wanted to punch something.

"I don’t want you marrying a nobody like Matt Harper. Just thinking about my precious girl ending up with someone like him drives me crazy with jealousy."

He sneered, like he was talking about some stray dog. My fists clenched under the table.

"Matt is so weak. Even if you married him and dropped our son on his doorstep in a few years, would he even dare say no?"

He laughed, cold and mean. My face flushed with anger.

"I’ve watched you grow up. Don’t you see how much I care about you?"

His words made my skin crawl. There was something possessive, almost predatory in the way he spoke.

Jesus, this old man was a total creep.

I shuddered. My skin crawled. I’d never felt so violated in my life.

Mr. Whitaker might be a small-time exec, but he’s still a sleazeball.

He acted like he owned her, like I was just some obstacle. The arrogance made me sick.

And now I understood why the college It-girl, Autumn, insisted on marrying me.

She never loved me—not really. I was just a means to an end, a way to keep her secret safe.

It was never about love.

That realization hurt more than I expected. I thought back to all the times she’d told me she loved me, all the promises we’d made. It was all a lie.

She just wanted a sucker to raise her kid!

I was the backup plan, the idiot who’d take care of someone else’s mess. Humiliating.

"Yeah, Matt’s only good quality is that he does what he’s told."

Autumn giggled.

She tossed her hair, her laughter ringing out. My face burned with shame.

"I told him the most important thing had to wait for our wedding night. Guess what? He won’t even touch me. Just now he ran off in a panic."

She rolled her eyes, mocking me. I wanted to scream.

"Guys like him make men look bad—such cowards."

She laughed again, her voice sharp. I felt myself shrinking, getting smaller with every word.

"Only a real man like me can satisfy you."

Mr. Whitaker slapped Autumn hard on the butt, then started up for another round.

I looked away, unable to watch any more. My hands shook with rage.

Hearing all this, my heart shattered.

I pressed my fist to my chest, trying to hold myself together. I’d never felt pain like this.

Ten years of love, trampled under Autumn’s feet.

All those years—wasted. I felt hollow, empty.

What a joke—respect? Turns out it was all a scam for idiots like me.

I’d prided myself on being a good boyfriend, a good man. Turns out, I was just the punchline.

The woman I treasured had already had a child with another man.

I stared at the screen, the truth finally settling in. There was no going back.

And I was the side piece!

I was just the backup. The joke. The idiot.

All those years, washing her underwear like a chump.

I gagged, remembering the stains, the sour smell. I wanted to scrub my hands raw.

God knows how much of this guy’s DNA I’d gotten on my hands!

I shuddered, bile rising in my throat. I’d never felt so dirty.

If I let these two off the hook, I couldn’t look myself in the mirror.

I clenched my jaw, determination hardening. I wasn’t going to let them get away with this.