Chapter 11 - Security Footage Doesn't Lie
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"Nobody is calling the police just yet," Damon said smoothly, tapping the screen of his phone and connecting it wirelessly to the seventy-inch flat-screen monitor mounted above the sitting room fireplace. "Not until we watch a little movie together."
Camille’s triumphant smile faltered for a fraction of a second, shooting a quick, nervous glance toward Martha. "What movie, Damon? The evidence is sitting right in Martha’s hand! You're humiliating yourself trying to cover for her!"
"Am I?" Damon murmured, walking over to comfort Sophie, lifting our crying daughter onto his hip while handing her back her torn velvet elephant. "You see, Camille, after you pushed my daughter onto the marble floor yesterday, I didn't trust a single person under this roof around her. While everyone was asleep at midnight, my personal tech team installed micro-cameras inside the smoke detectors of this suite and the adjoining linen alcove. They don't shut off during the ten o'clock cleaning rotation."
Every drop of blood vanished from Martha’s face. The emerald necklace trembled violently in her thick fingers.
With a single swipe of Damon’s thumb, the giant screen above the fireplace flickered to life in crystal-clear high definition—complete with studio-quality audio.
The entire room watched in dead silence as the first clip played: Camille standing in the dim linen alcove two hours ago, pressing a thick envelope of cash and the green velvet jewelry box into Martha’s hands.
"Shove the emerald inside the stuffing and sew it back up," Camille’s recorded voice echoed clearly from the television speakers. "Before the doctor can bring those DNA results at five o'clock, I want Elena hauled out of here in handcuffs for grand larceny!"
Then the screen split to a second angle showing the nursery thirty minutes later—while Elena and Sophie were downstairs in the garden with Damon—capturing Martha sneaking into the empty room, pulling a pair of sewing scissors from her apron, and stuffing the emerald necklace inside the elephant.
Evelyn Vance slowly turned her head toward Camille and Martha, her eyes burning with a cold, aristocratic fury that made even the two security guards take a nervous step backward.
"It—it was her idea, Mrs. Vance!" Martha shrieked, dropping to her knees on the carpet and pointing wildly at Camille. "She threatened to have my son fired from the Senator’s office if I didn't help her frame the girl!"
"Shut up, you stupid cow!" Camille screamed, lunging toward the television as if she could smash the screen with her bare hands.
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"Hold her," Damon commanded coldly. The two security guards immediately stepped forward, blocking Camille’s path while grabbing Martha by the arms. Damon looked down at his mother. "Mother, do you still have questions about who the real parasites in this house are?"
"Take Martha to the precinct and press full felony charges for theft and conspiracy," Evelyn said, her voice shaking with disgust before she glared at Camille. "And get this woman out of my sight before I personally send this video to the New York Times."
