CHAPTER 3 — The Folder No Husband Should Ever Have to Open
CHAPTER 3 — The Folder No Husband Should Ever Have to Open
My finger rested on the touchpad.
The room was so silent I could hear one of my twins breathing against Emily's shoulder.
Victoria took one careful step toward me.
"Daniel," she said softly, abandoning the cold confidence she had worn moments before. "Don't do this in front of them."
I didn't answer.
I clicked.
The folder opened.
Inside were dozens of video files.
Each one was labeled with a date.
The oldest was nearly seven months old.
Seven months.
My stomach tightened.
How had this been happening under my own roof for seven months without me seeing it?
Emily lowered her eyes.
"I started recording after the first time she hit me."
Victoria laughed nervously.
"They're edited."
"They're fake."
"She's trying to blackmail us."
I opened the first video.
The nursery appeared on the screen.
Emily was feeding one of the twins.
Victoria walked into frame carrying a champagne glass.
Without warning...
She slapped Emily across the face.
Hard.
The baby immediately burst into tears.
Victoria didn't even look at the child.
Instead she smiled.
"You cried louder than the baby."
My hands clenched into fists.
I opened another video.
Victoria was standing over Emily while she scrubbed the nursery floor.
"Look at me."
Emily slowly looked up.
Another slap.
"You looked too slowly."
Another video.
Emily accidentally spilled a bottle of formula.
Victoria forced her to kneel.
"Lick it."
Emily stared at the floor in horror.
"I said lick it."
My breathing became uneven.
I couldn't believe what I was watching.
The woman on the screen wasn't angry.
She was enjoying it.
Every insult.
Every humiliation.
Every tear.
She smiled through all of it.
Behind me, Victoria spoke quickly.
"Daniel, people say things when they're stressed."
"That's not who I am."
I clicked another recording.
This one wasn't in the nursery.
It was in the kitchen.
Emily stood near the counter answering her phone.
Her face turned white.
"My son..."
"My son collapsed?"
She covered her mouth.
Victoria calmly reached over...
...and ended the phone call.
Emily stared at her in disbelief.
"You don't need distractions while you're working."
Emily fell to her knees.
"Please..."
"My little boy..."
Victoria placed the phone into her purse.
"If he matters that much..."
"Quit."
Emily whispered through tears.
"I need this job to pay for his treatment."
Victoria smiled.
"Then choose."
"Your son."
"Or your paycheck."
The video ended.
My vision blurred.
Emily hadn't been trapped by ropes.
She had been trapped by desperation.
Every paycheck had been another day of chemotherapy for her child.
Victoria had known that.
She had used it.
My twins suddenly stirred.
Emily instinctively rocked them.
Even after everything she had endured...
...her first instinct was still to comfort my children.
I looked at Victoria.
"How many times?"
She folded her arms.
"It wasn't abuse."
I repeated myself.
"How many times?"
She stayed silent.
Emily answered.
"I stopped counting after fifty."
The words sucked every ounce of air from the room.
Fifty.
Fifty times she had been hurt inside my own house.
While I believed my wife was hosting charity galas.
While I believed my marriage was stable.
While I believed my children were growing up in a loving home.
I had been living inside a carefully constructed lie.
Then I noticed another folder.
Its name made my blood freeze.
BABIES.
I opened it.
May you like
Victoria suddenly screamed.
"NO!"
