Part 2: The Hidden Lens
The words hung in the air like a suffocating smoke.
Ryan.
The patient, caring man I had married eight months ago, the man who quietly fixed things around the house without me ever asking.
I stood up slowly, my legs shaking so violently I had to lean against the tiled wall for support.
"What camera, Lily?" I asked, my voice dropping into a tight, strained whisper.
She pointed a small, trembling finger up toward the ventilation fan in the center of the bathroom ceiling.
I dragged the wooden vanity stool over, stepped onto it, and pulled the plastic cover off the vent.
Tucked inside the dust-covered wires was a sleek, black cylindrical camera, its tiny red indicator light blinking silently in the dark.
It was wired directly into the main power line of the house.
I pulled the device out, my hands shaking so hard I almost dropped it into the toilet.
"He told me he was watching to make sure I didn't drown," Lily whispered, clutching her knees as she curled into the corner of the room. "But he said if you found out, it would break our family name."
A sudden sound from the hallway made both of us freeze.
May you like
The heavy click of the front door opening echoed through the low adobe house.
"Sarah? Lily?" Ryan’s cheerful voice floated toward the bathroom. "I brought home that favorite cereal from the market."
