Chapter 2 - SEVEN SECONDS
Ethan opened the baby-monitor app.
Victoria stood perfectly still.
Sarah could hear the grandfather clock in the hall.
Tick.
Tick.
Tick.
Leo gave a weak cough.
Ethan tapped the screen.
“Why isn’t it loading?”
Victoria exhaled.
Sarah noticed.
“Try the recordings,” she said.
“I am.”
Ethan swiped through the timeline.
“There.”
A video thumbnail appeared.
2:14 p.m.
Thirty-two seconds.
Ethan pressed play.
The room appeared on his phone.
The empty crib.
The fireplace.
Then Victoria walked into frame carrying the iron.
Sarah watched Ethan’s face change.
Victoria quickly spoke.
“See? I had the iron because of my scarf.”
Ethan didn’t answer.
On the screen, Victoria walked toward the crib.
Closer.
Closer.
Leo was asleep.
Then she lifted the iron.
Sarah whispered, “Keep watching.”
The video showed Victoria leaning over Leo.
Her thumb moved toward the steam button.
The phone went black.
Ethan frowned.
“What the hell?”
Victoria spoke quickly.
“Probably the Wi-Fi.”
“No,” Sarah said.
Ethan tried again.
The clip loaded.
Victoria approached the crib.
The image froze at seven seconds.
Error.
Recording unavailable.
Victoria shook her head dramatically.
“This is ridiculous.”
Sarah looked at her.
“You don’t seem surprised.”
“I don’t understand technology.”
“You understand enough to know the recording stopped.”
Victoria’s eyes sharpened.
Ethan looked between them.
“Both of you stop.”
Sarah held Leo closer.
“Check the next clip.”
“There isn’t one.”
“What?”
Ethan scrolled.
2:14.
Then nothing until 2:19.
Five minutes missing.
Sarah felt her stomach drop.
“That camera records movement.”
“I know,” Ethan said.
“So how can five minutes disappear?”
Victoria folded her arms.
“Maybe because cheap electronics fail.”
“It wasn’t cheap,” Ethan replied.
Victoria went quiet.
Sarah looked toward the fireplace.
The green light still blinked.
“Does it save locally?”
Ethan frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Some cameras use a memory card.”
“I have no idea.”
Victoria laughed nervously.
“This is getting absurd.”
Sarah ignored her.
“When was the camera installed?”
“Before Leo was born.”
“Who set it up?”
Ethan thought.
“Daniel. The house technician.”
“Call him.”
Victoria stepped between them.
“Ethan, are you seriously going to turn this house upside down because your maid made some wild accusation?”
Sarah’s anger finally broke through.
“Stop calling me that like it means I don’t have eyes.”
Victoria snapped around.
“It means you are an employee.”
“And it means you think nobody beneath you can tell the truth.”
“Sarah,” Ethan warned.
She looked at him.
“I’m sorry. But your son was coughing under a cloud of hot steam.”
Victoria scoffed.
“He coughed twice.”
Sarah stared at her.
“You counted?”
Silence.
Ethan slowly looked at Victoria.
“What?”
Victoria’s expression shifted.
“I meant—I heard him coughing before she came in.”
Sarah stepped forward.
“No. You said he was fine.”
“He was.”
“Then why were you counting his coughs?”
Victoria’s face flushed.
“You’re twisting my words.”
Ethan rubbed a hand over his face.
“Enough. Leo needs to be checked.”
“I’ll take him,” Victoria said.
Sarah immediately said, “No.”
Victoria turned.
“You don’t get a vote.”
Ethan looked at Leo, then at Sarah.
“Sarah, bring him upstairs. I’ll call Dr. Mason.”
Victoria’s mouth fell open.
“You’re leaving him with her?”
“For five minutes.”
“She just accused me of abusing him!”
Ethan’s voice dropped.
“And I’m trying to figure out what happened.”
Victoria’s eyes filled again.
Perfect tears.
“You believe her.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“But you’re thinking it.”
Ethan looked at the iron on the floor.
He didn’t answer.
Sarah turned toward the stairs.
As she passed Victoria, she heard a whisper.
“So you want a war.”
Sarah stopped.
Victoria was smiling through her tears.
“You have no idea what you just started.”
Sarah walked away.
Upstairs, Leo finally stopped crying.
Sarah sat in the nursery rocking chair, holding him against her chest.
“It’s okay, sweetheart.”
She wished she believed it.
Her phone buzzed.
A text message from an unknown number.
She opened it.
May you like
Four words appeared on the screen.
YOU SHOULD HAVE STAYED QUIET.
