Chapter 2

When I got home, my eight-year-old son beamed up at me.

"Mom, I made you a warm bowl of soup."

Something in me went soft. I crouched down, pulled him into my arms, and kissed his cheek.

"Good boy. You're the only one who thinks about your poor mom."

"So does that mean I don't have to do my homework tonight?"

I snorted and raised my hand.

"What do you think?"

He stuck out his tongue and ran off to do his homework in the study.

I sat on the couch for a while, then went to the bedroom and locked the door behind me.

I'd just taken out my phone to make a call when the floating comments appeared again.

【Don't call from in there. Your husband installed a hidden camera in the bedroom!】

【Save it, the one upstairs. A phone call? That's nothing. There's usually a live feed going!】

A chill went through me and my body started to shake. I couldn't believe it.

【Your husband isn't ready to show his hand yet. The memory card and the surveillance software are hidden in your son's tablet.】

I was nearly out of my mind as I bolted to my son's study.

"Mom, what's wrong?"

I forced a smile and soothed him.

"Nothing, sweetie. You don't have to do your homework tonight. Go watch some cartoons."

He cheered and ran off to the living room.

Only when I heard the cartoons start did I pick up the tablet with shaking hands and slowly open it.

For someone with my computer-science background, a hidden program was child's play.

When I dug out the surveillance software, and then video after video on the memory card, my heart turned to ice.

But why? Why all of this?

I put the question to the floating comments, but no reply came.

The way it looked now, most of what they'd said was true.

The rest of it was just me clinging to hope.

Half an hour later my son said he was hungry, so I went to the kitchen and, with as much patience as I could manage, made the dinner he liked.

After he fell asleep, I sat in the living room and waited for Vincent to come home.

That wait stretched to two hours.

He opened the door, kicked off his leather shoes, and slid into his slippers.

When he turned and saw me sitting in the living room, he seemed to startle.

"Whoa. What's going on tonight? Why aren't you in bed?"

He looked worn out. I gave him a strained smile.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about."

Vincent sighed, sat down beside me, and pulled me against him.

"I know what you're going to say. It's about your brother, isn't it?"

"But I mean it. This really is the last time."

I opened my mouth and couldn't get a word out. Seeing that, he sighed again.

"I can help him with the one million this time, but that's my limit as his brother-in-law."

"Go ask around out there. What brother-in-law plugs a hole this big for his wife's brother?"

He went on like that for a while. I gently slipped free of his arm and asked, slow and deliberate, one word at a time.

"You said someone checked on our property today. But I just looked it up. Why is our house mortgaged?"

"You've got it wrong, that's all!"

Vincent froze for a second, then brushed it off.

"Listen, there are all kinds of scam apps out there now. Our house was never even registered with the property office, so how could anyone possibly mortgage it?"