Chapter 2 – EIGHT THOUSAND FOUR HUNDRED DOLLARS

Vanessa came upstairs less than a minute later.

“What camera?”

Her question came too quickly.

Daniel turned.

“The security camera.”

“I know what camera you’re talking about.”

She looked at me.

“Why are you asking about it?”

I held the appraisal against my chest.

“Because if it recorded the living room, then nobody needs to argue.”

For several seconds, Vanessa said nothing.

Then she laughed.

It sounded forced.

“That camera hasn’t worked in months.”

Daniel frowned.

“What?”

“The downstairs camera.”

“Since when?”

“I don’t know. A while.”

“You never told me.”

“Why would I? We hardly use it.”

Daniel took out his phone.

Vanessa stepped closer.

“Seriously?”

“What?”

“You’re going to check surveillance footage because your mother refuses to admit she broke a vase?”

“I want to know what happened.”

“I told you what happened.”

“No,” I said quietly. “You told him what you think happened.”

Her eyes flashed.

“You really want to do this?”

“Yes.”

“Fine.”

She shrugged.

“Go ahead.”

That confidence almost convinced me.

Almost.

Daniel opened the security app.

He tapped the screen.

Waited.

Then frowned.

“It’s offline.”

Vanessa gave me a small smile.

“See?”

“When did it go offline?” I asked.

She looked at Daniel.

“Does it matter?”

“Yes.”

Daniel tapped again.

“It says the living-room camera disconnected yesterday at 6:14 p.m.”

My eyes met Vanessa’s.

Yesterday.

The vase broke shortly after eleven that morning.

The camera had been working.

Vanessa’s smile vanished.

Daniel stared at the phone.

“If it was connected this morning, the footage should be in cloud storage.”

“I thought we canceled cloud storage,” Vanessa said.

“No. It’s bundled with the alarm system.”

He tapped again.

Then his expression changed.

“Password.”

Vanessa folded her arms.

“Can we not turn this into some kind of criminal investigation?”

“No one said criminal.”

“You’re treating me like I’m lying.”

“No,” Daniel said. “I’m checking what happened.”

“And if there’s nothing?”

“Then there’s nothing.”

She stared at him.

I had never seen Vanessa look at my son that way.

Not angry.

Cornered.

Then she walked away.

“Do whatever you want.”

Her bedroom door slammed.

Daniel looked at me.

“I need the password from my laptop.”

“Fine.”

“Mom…”

“I’m tired, Daniel.”

“I know.”

“No. I don’t think you do.”

I handed him the appraisal.

“Eight thousand four hundred dollars isn’t the problem.”

He frowned.

“What do you mean?”

“I could pay it.”

That surprised him.

After Robert died, I sold our large house and moved into a smaller condominium. We had been careful with money. There was enough.

Not enough to throw away.

But enough that eight thousand dollars wouldn’t ruin me.

“This isn’t about whether I can pay,” I said. “It’s about whether I should pay for something I didn’t do.”

“I know.”

“Do you?”

He looked down.

“I should’ve defended you.”

“Yes.”

“I just didn’t know what happened.”

“Neither did Vanessa. Apparently.”

He had no answer.

I closed the door.

I barely slept.

The next morning, I woke before six and packed my suitcase.

I had decided to leave regardless of what the camera showed.

Some accusations change a room.

Others change a relationship.

By seven, my bag was downstairs.

Vanessa was in the kitchen drinking coffee.

She looked at my suitcase.

“Leaving?”

“Yes.”

“Probably for the best.”

I waited for an apology.

None came.

Instead, she stirred her coffee.

“Daniel feels terrible.”

“Does he?”

“He hates conflict.”

“That doesn’t make him unique.”

“He’s under a lot of pressure at work.”

“And that makes falsely accusing his mother easier?”

Her spoon stopped.

“I didn’t falsely accuse you.”

“You don’t know that I broke the vase.”

“You were the only person downstairs.”

“So were you at some point.”

“I was upstairs getting dressed.”

“You came downstairs remarkably quickly after it broke.”

Her eyes hardened.

“What are you implying?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes, you are.”

“I’m saying I don’t know what happened.”

“I do.”

There it was again.

Certainty.

Too much certainty.

I stepped closer.

“How?”

She didn’t answer.

“How do you know, Vanessa?”

“Because I heard it fall.”

“So did I.”

“And when I came downstairs, you were there.”

“In the kitchen.”

“Ten feet away.”

“Twenty.”

“Does that really matter?”

“When you’re demanding eight thousand four hundred dollars from me, yes.”

She set the spoon down.

“I don’t understand why you always do this.”

“Do what?”

“Make everything difficult.”

I almost laughed.

“I’m making this difficult?”

“You’ve never liked me.”

“That isn’t true.”

“You tolerate me because Daniel loves me.”

I considered lying.

Instead, I said, “At first, I liked you very much.”

Her face tightened.

“At first?”

“I don’t like the way you’ve treated me this week.”

“I let you stay in my house.”

“My son’s house too.”

“And there it is.”

“What?”

“The little reminders.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Of course you don’t.”

She stepped closer.

“You come into my home, move things around, cook in my kitchen, reorganize things—”

“I moved the sugar bowl.”

“You make comments.”

“What comments?”

“About money. About the furniture. About how expensive everything is.”

“I said the vase was expensive after you told me it cost eight thousand dollars.”

“You judge me.”

I finally understood part of it.

Vanessa had been collecting grievances.

Tiny ones.

A raised eyebrow.

A comment.

A dish placed on the wrong shelf.

In her mind, they had become evidence.

“I don’t care how you spend your money,” I said.

“Daniel’s money.”

I stared at her.

She immediately realized what she had said.

“I didn’t mean—”

“Actually, I think you did.”

Footsteps sounded behind us.

Daniel entered the kitchen.

He looked like he hadn’t slept either.

“I found the password.”

Vanessa went still.

My heart started beating harder.

“Good,” I said.

He opened his laptop.

Vanessa didn’t move.

Daniel sat at the kitchen island.

I stood on one side.

Vanessa stood on the other.

The security program loaded.

A calendar appeared.

Daniel selected yesterday.

“There.”

Small video files populated the screen.

10:00 a.m.

10:30.

11:00.

11:30.

The vase had broken around 11:17.

Daniel clicked the 11:00 file.

A loading circle appeared.

Vanessa suddenly spoke.

“This is ridiculous.”

Neither of us answered.

The video loaded.

The living room appeared from a high corner angle.

There was the couch.

The fireplace.

The pedestal.

And the vase.

Still intact.

The timestamp read 11:00:03.

I felt my throat tighten.

Daniel dragged the timeline forward.

11:08.

I appeared on screen carrying folded laundry.

I placed it on the staircase.

Then I entered the living room.

Vanessa pointed.

“There.”

Daniel kept watching.

On screen, I picked up a wicker basket beside the fireplace.

I vacuumed beneath it.

Then I put it back.

I never went near the pedestal.

At 11:11, I disappeared into the kitchen.

Daniel looked at Vanessa.

She said nothing.

He moved forward.

11:14.

Nothing.

11:15.

Nothing.

Then at 11:16, someone entered the frame.

Vanessa.

The real Vanessa standing beside me stopped breathing.

On the screen, she walked directly toward the vase.

And Daniel whispered:

“What the hell?”