Chapter 4 - The Secret FolderTrue to my word, I spent the rest of the night in my study, speaking with my corporate attorney and reviewing legal filings for emergency sole custody.
As I opened my encrypted desktop database to pull our marriage registry and property deeds, a secondary background notification caught my eye. It was an automated cloud-sync alert linked to the home security hub in the hallway.
Frowning, I clicked on the file directory.
Folder: Hallway_Cam_Backup_Auto.
Curiosity overriding my exhaustion, I opened the oldest file dated three months ago—back when I traveled for my import-export business.
The video loaded.
My breath caught in my throat.
On screen, Victoria walked down the hallway dragging Lily behind her by a heavy metal chain attached to her wheelchair, while the little girl sobbed and pleaded for her to stop. In another video, Victoria locked Lily in a dark storage closet for hours because she dropped a glass plate.
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Hour after hour of systematic, calculated psychological and physical torture, executed entirely while I was away at work.
My hands shook so violently I could barely hold the mouse. I had trusted her. I had believed she was just cold and distant. Instead, she had turned our home into a prison camp for my disabled child.
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