Chapter 2: The Video Nobody Was Supposed to See
For several seconds, Corisande looked as though she had forgotten how to speak.
Then she recovered enough to rush toward Nora.
“Give me that phone!””
Nora stepped backward.
“No.””
“I said give it to me!””
“You've spent years telling everyone that you're a wonderful woman,” Nora replied.
“Perhaps it's time they saw the truth.””
Corisande's composure shattered.
She grabbed for the device, but Nora held it above her shoulder.
A few guests moved closer. Others raised their own phones, uncertain whether they should intervene or record what was happening.
My stepmother spun toward them.
“This is a private family matter! Anyone who records this without my permission will hear from my lawyer!””
No one put their phones away.
For the first time in my life, I watched people refuse to obey her.
Nora looked at me.
“Mara, sweetheart, I need you to tell me whether you want them to see this.””
My throat tightened.
I could feel my pulse in my fingertips.
The last time someone had asked me whether I wanted something, Corisande had stood behind them smiling, ready to remind me how expensive my life was.
“Will she hurt me afterward?”” I whispered.
Nora's eyes filled with tears.
“Oh, darling.””
She reached for my hand but stopped just short of touching me, as though she wanted to make sure I was comfortable.
“Not if I have anything to say about it.””
I looked at the phone.
“Show them.””
Nora nodded and turned up the volume.
The image filled the screen.
It showed our kitchen, filmed from a high angle near the pantry. The date in the corner was September 18, almost a month earlier.
I recognized the blue curtains above the sink and the little white clock beside the refrigerator.
I also recognized the girl standing near the counter.
Me.
I was wearing pajamas and holding an empty plate.
On the screen, Corisande stood with her back to the camera, examining a container of leftover food.
“Please,” my recorded voice said.
“I haven't had dinner.””
Corisande didn't turn around.
“Then you should have thought about that earlier.””
“I was doing my homework when you called everyone downstairs.””
“Excuses. That's all you ever have.””
She took the container from the refrigerator and dropped it into the garbage.
The guests in the dining room began murmuring.
On the phone, I stepped toward her.
“Can I at least have a piece of bread?””
Corisande finally turned.
She seized my empty plate and struck it against the counter.
The sound made me flinch even while watching the recording.
“Do you understand how lucky you are?”” she demanded.
“There are children who don't have a bedroom, and you have an entire suite to yourself.””
“I'm sorry.””
“Then stop acting like a starving animal.””
She walked toward the door.
I followed her.
“Please don't lock the pantry again.””
Corisande stopped.
Slowly, she looked over her shoulder.
“Keep talking, Mara. See what happens.””
She left.
A moment later, the pantry door slammed.
The footage showed me standing alone in the kitchen.
I waited.
Ten seconds passed.
Then twenty.
Finally, I picked up a piece of bread from the counter, broke it in half, and slipped one piece into my pocket.
I ate the other one so quickly I nearly choked.
Somewhere behind me, a woman began to cry.
The clip ended.
Nobody laughed now.
I stared at the floor, wishing it would open beneath my feet.
It was one thing to remember those moments. It was another to watch them projected into a room full of people who had spent the evening praising the woman responsible.
Corisande seized the opportunity to speak.
“This is absurd. That footage has been taken completely out of context.””
Nora lowered her phone.
“What context makes a grown woman throw away a child's dinner?””
“She had already eaten.””
“No, I hadn't,” I whispered.
Corisande turned toward me.
“You will be quiet.””
“No.””
The word came out before fear could stop it.
Her expression hardened.
“You don't understand what you've done.””
For once, I didn't look away.
“I think I do.””
A deep voice interrupted us.
“What on earth is going on?””
My father had returned from the terrace.
Daniel Hart stood in the doorway, his phone still in one hand. He looked from the broken glass on the carpet to Corisande's disheveled gown, then to the guests gathered around Nora.
Finally, he saw me.
My father had always told me I could come to him with any problem.
I had tried to believe him.
“Dad,” I said.
His eyes moved to Corisande.
“Why is everyone standing around?””
Corisande immediately began to cry.
Not the quiet, trembling sort of tears she used when she wanted him to comfort her.
These were loud, desperate sobs.
“She attacked me!”” she exclaimed, clutching his arm.
“Your daughter attacked me in front of everyone!””
My father stared at me.
“Mara?””
I looked down at my hands.
“She tried to slap me. Then she kicked me.””
“That's not what happened!”” Corisande cried.
“She has become increasingly violent. I've been trying to tell you!””
Nora stepped forward.
“Mr. Hart, before you decide what happened, you need to watch something.””
She held out her phone.
My father hesitated.
“What's that?””
“Footage from your kitchen.””
He looked at Corisande.
“What footage?””
“It's illegal,” Corisande snapped.
“Nora has stolen private security recordings from this house. You can't seriously expect me to tolerate this humiliation.””
My father took the phone.
I watched his face as he pressed play.
At first, he looked confused.
Then he watched the recording of me standing beside the counter, asking for bread.
His jaw tightened.
When Corisande threw the food away, his fingers curled around the edges of the phone.
When the recording ended with me hiding half a piece of bread in my pocket, he lowered the device very slowly.
“Mara,” he said, “is that really what happened?””
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to ask him how many times I had stood outside his study, waiting for him to finish his calls so I could tell him something was wrong.
I wanted to ask why he had never noticed that I was always hungry when he came home from business trips.
Instead, I said, “Yes.””
His eyes shone.
“Why didn't you tell me?””
The question hurt more than I expected.
“I tried.””
He looked stricken.
I swallowed.
“I tried when I was eight. I tried when I was ten. I tried last Christmas when she took away the presents you bought me because I hadn't cleaned the upstairs bathroom properly.””
My father went pale.
Corisande made a sharp, disbelieving sound.
“She is fabricating stories because she's angry that I disciplined her!””
“You threw my Christmas presents into the fireplace,” I said.
“They were gifts I paid for!””
“They had my name on them.””
My father's expression changed.
For the first time, he looked at his wife as though he were seeing a stranger.
“Corisande,” he said quietly, “what is she talking about?””
She turned toward him with open fury.
“Daniel, don't you dare question me in front of these people.””
The room was so silent I could hear the ocean beyond the windows.
Nora took the phone back.
“There is more.””
Corisande's head snapped around.
“No.””
Nora's face hardened.
“Yes.””
She opened a second file.
“This one was recorded in the upstairs corridor. It was saved on the same security system.””
My father reached for her arm.
“Nora, wait. Let me see it first.””
But Nora had already pressed play.
The video showed a narrow hallway outside my bedroom.
The timestamp read December 21 of the previous year.
I remembered that night.
I remembered the cold floor beneath my bare feet. The ache in my stomach. The way I had stood outside Corisande's room, whispering that I was sorry.
On the screen, Corisande appeared in the corridor wearing a red silk robe.
She grabbed my wrist.
“You told your father I frightened you,” she said.
My younger self shook her head frantically.
“I didn't. I didn't tell him anything.””
“Then why did he ask me whether I've been treating you properly?””
“I don't know.””
Corisande pulled me closer.
“Listen to me carefully. Your father believes whatever I tell him. If I say you're unstable, he'll believe that. If I say you make up stories for attention, he'll believe that too.””
I began to cry.
“Please don't.””
She tightened her grip.
“You will never turn him against me.””
Then she shoved me backward into my bedroom.
The door slammed.
The video ended.
I could no longer see the guests clearly because tears had blurred my vision.
My father was staring at the dark phone screen.
“That's enough,” he whispered.
For one hopeful moment, I thought he was speaking to Corisande.
Then I saw him look at Nora.
“Please,” he said.
“That's enough.””
Nora didn't move.
“Mr. Hart, I'm afraid we haven't reached the worst part.””
Corisande's sobbing stopped.
She looked at my father.
Then she looked at the phone.
And I understood something that made the room tilt around me.
There was a recording she was even more afraid of than the others.
Nora tapped the screen.
A third file appeared.
Its date was different.
Its location was the study.
And when the video began, my father's voice came through the speakers.
“Corisande, I told you we could not keep doing this.””
My father stopped moving.
May you like
My stepmother closed her eyes.
And I realized that whatever happened next would change our family forever.
