Chapter 2: One Hundred and Twelve Days of Hell
Chapter 2: One Hundred and Twelve Days of Hell
The object in Allison's hand was not another wooden spoon.
It was a leather dog leash.
My mother recoiled the moment she saw it, shrinking against the headboard like a terrified child.
"No... please..." she whispered.
Allison smiled into the darkness.
"You know the rules."
My stomach twisted as I watched the footage from thousands of miles away and months too late.
She clipped the leash around the side rail of Mom's bed.
Not because my mother needed protection.
Because Allison wanted to keep her from reaching the call button I had installed beside the nightstand.
She leaned close enough for the hidden microphone to capture every word.
"You can cry all you want," Allison said softly. "Your son believes I'm an angel. By the time he comes home, you'll either be dead... or too confused to tell him anything."
I slammed my fist onto the hospital table so hard my coffee spilled across the keyboard.
The screen kept playing.
Mom cried silently for nearly an hour.
No one came.
Not because nobody cared.
Because Allison had unplugged every emergency alarm in the room.
I skipped ahead.
Day 17.
Breakfast.
Allison placed a full plate of eggs, toast, and fruit in front of my mother.
Then she waited until Jade entered carrying fresh towels.
"Oh, Martha doesn't seem hungry today."
She calmly dumped the entire breakfast into the trash.
The timestamp showed 8:06 a.m.
The next meal didn't arrive until almost eight that night.
The doctor's words echoed inside my head.
Severe dehydration. Malnutrition.
Now I knew why.
Another recording.
Day 34.
Jade quietly slipped a banana and a bottle of water into Mom's room.
She thought no one was watching.
Unfortunately...
Someone was.
Allison appeared behind her.
"What exactly do you think you're doing?"
"Mrs. Dawson hasn't eaten."
"That isn't your decision."
"She's hungry."
The slap exploded across Jade's face.
She stumbled backward, nearly dropping the water bottle.
"You work for me," Allison hissed.
"Not for that useless old woman."
Jade lowered her head.
"I'm sorry."
"No."
Allison smiled.
"You're going to learn."
She forced Jade to stand in the hallway for four straight hours without sitting down.
Every time Jade shifted from exhaustion, Allison added another thirty minutes.
By midnight, Jade could barely walk.
Yet the following morning...
She still sneaked food to my mother.
I paused the recording.
Tears blurred my vision.
Jade wasn't just an employee.
She had risked everything.
Every single day.
Another file.
Day 51.
Allison sat at the dining table speaking on speakerphone.
"I can't keep waiting forever," she complained.
A man's voice answered.
"Then speed things up."
"I've already isolated the old woman."
"What about the son?"
"He's still in Saudi."
The man chuckled.
"He trusts you."
"Completely."
"So once she signs the papers..."
"We'll have everything."
My heartbeat stopped.
Papers?
What papers?
Allison opened a folder.
Inside were copies of my mother's signature.
No...
Not copies.
Forgeries.
She had been practicing the signature over and over again.
Some looked shaky.
Others were almost perfect.
Then she laughed.
"Another week."
"She'll sign whatever I put in front of her."
I immediately searched my email.
Nothing unusual.
My bank accounts.
Normal.
Investment portfolio.
Untouched.
Then I logged into the property records.
My pulse accelerated.
Someone had submitted preliminary transfer documents for my mother's house six weeks earlier.
The application had been rejected because one identification page was missing.
Rejected.
Not canceled.
She had tried to steal my mother's home.
I clicked another recording.
Day 79.
Mom refused to sign.
Allison lost control.
She grabbed the wheelchair.
"You think Ryder loves you?"
She shoved the chair into the wall.
"You ruined his life!"
Another shove.
Mom cried out in pain.
Then came a sickening crack.
I froze.
The wrist fracture.
I had just watched it happen.
Allison stared for a second.
Realizing what she'd done.
Instead of calling an ambulance...
She dragged my mother across the bedroom carpet by both arms.
My seventy-eight-year-old mother screamed in agony.
Allison simply shut the bedroom door.
No doctor came.
Not that day.
Not the next.
Not for twenty-three days.
I covered my mouth.
I thought I understood cruelty.
I had been wrong.
The next clip showed something unexpected.
Late one evening, Jade entered quietly carrying her own first-aid kit.
She carefully wrapped Mom's swollen wrist.
"I'm sorry," Jade whispered while crying.
"I don't have medicine."
Mom touched the young woman's face.
"You've already done enough."
"No."
"I haven't."
"If my son comes home..."
Jade shook her head.
"He will."
"He has to."
"I've been writing everything down."
She reached beneath the mattress and pulled out a small notebook.
Every injury.
Every threat.
Every missed meal.
Every forged document.
Every date.
Every witness.
She kissed Mom gently on the forehead before hiding the notebook again.
Then she looked directly toward the hidden camera.
Almost as if...
She somehow knew someone would eventually watch.
My phone buzzed.
It was the detective assigned to the assault case.
"Mr. Dawson," he said.
"We executed an emergency search warrant at your residence."
"What did you find?"
A brief silence followed.
Then he spoke carefully.
"We found the blue sewing box."
My heart pounded.
"What's inside?"
"Not just one thing."
"We found dozens of signed documents..."
"...your mother's handwritten diary..."
"...photographs of injuries..."
"...and something else."
His voice became noticeably quieter.
"There's a flash drive."
"It contains financial records showing someone has been paying your wife every month."
I closed my eyes.
"Who?"
The detective inhaled slowly.
"You should come to the station."
May you like
"The name on those transfers..."
"...belongs to someone in your own family."
