“He leaves because you cry.”
I felt every muscle in my body lock.
Camille continued.
“If you want him to come back, you need to be a good girl for Mommy.”
Lily shook her head.
“Not Mommy.”
Camille grabbed her shoulders.
“Say it.”
Lily cried harder.
The recording ended.
I watched it twice.
Then a third time.
Thomas took the tablet away.
“Enough.”
I looked at him.
“She told my daughter I leave because she cries.”
“Yes.”
“She made Lily think I disappear because of her.”
Thomas said nothing.
There was nothing useful to say.
I went downstairs at 1:40 in the morning.
Most of the guests had left.
Camille stood in the ballroom saying goodbye to the final donors.
She looked beautiful.
Perfect dress.
Perfect hair.
Perfect smile.
If I hadn't seen the recording, I would have believed that face.
Maybe that was what frightened me most.
She saw me.
“There you are.”
I waited until the last couple walked away.
“Come with me.”
Something in my voice made her stop smiling.
We entered my study.
Thomas stood by the door.
Camille looked at him.
“Why is security here?”
I placed the tablet on the desk.
The video played.
Her face changed.
Not dramatically.
Just enough.
“You recorded me?”
“Nora did.”
Camille looked away.
“How many times did you put Lily in that closet?”
“I told you.”
“Don't lie to me again.”
“She was having behavioral problems.”
“How many?”
“I don't know.”
“Fifty-two openings.”
Her eyes snapped toward mine.
That told me she hadn't known I could retrieve the logs.
“Not all of those were Lily.”
“Eight were longer than ten minutes.”
She folded her arms.
“She was never hurt.”
I stared at her.
“Listen to yourself.”
“She was safe.”
“She was two.”
“I was trying to establish boundaries.”
“You removed the light.”
Camille froze.
“I didn't.”
“You redirected the door sensor.”
“I changed several nursery settings.”
“You fired Nora.”
“She undermined me.”
“You impersonated me.”
Silence.
“You forged messages pretending I approved of what you were doing.”
Camille looked toward Thomas.
“This is a private marital conversation.”
Thomas didn't move.
“No,” I said.
“It stopped being private when my daughter became evidence.”
Camille's expression hardened.
“You want the truth?”
“Yes.”
“I entered a family where everyone worshiped a dead woman.”
I stared at her.