Chapter 2: The Woman Who Wanted Me Gone
The sound that had frightened Vanessa turned out to be nothing more than the security system announcing that the front door had been left unlocked.
I learned that the following morning.
I also learned that hope could disappear faster than it arrived.
At six thirty, I came downstairs with a swollen cheek, a split lip, and the desperate intention of forcing my father to watch the security footage before he left for work.
Instead, I found Vanessa sitting at the kitchen island in a pale blue sweater, sipping coffee from my mother's favorite mug.
That was the first thing that stopped me.
The mug had been hidden in the back of a cabinet for years. My mother had painted tiny yellow flowers around the rim, and one handle had a hairline crack.
I had asked Vanessa not to use it when she moved in.
She had laughed and told me that dead people didn't need their belongings anymore.
Now she was holding it with both hands.
“Good morning, Ethan,” she said.
I didn't answer.
She looked me over, from my bruised face to the hoodie I'd pulled over my pajamas.
“Your father is still asleep. He had a difficult night.””
I walked toward the refrigerator.
“He had a difficult night?””
Vanessa sighed.
“Please don't start.””
“You told him I attacked you. He punched me. How exactly was his night difficult?””
She carefully placed the mug on the counter.
“You need to stop twisting everything around to make yourself the victim.””
I opened the refrigerator and grabbed a bottle of water.
“Show him the camera footage.””
Her fingers went still.
Then she smiled.
“Oh, Ethan.””
She said my name as if she were talking to a stubborn child who had just asked for something unreasonable.
“You really believe a machine is going to save you from the consequences of your behavior?””
“If it recorded what happened, yes.””
“And if it doesn't?””
I turned toward her.
She shrugged.
“Cameras fail. Power goes out. Recordings get erased. You should know that.””
A cold feeling settled in my stomach.
The camera had a battery backup. My father had mentioned that himself when he installed it.
But Vanessa knew enough about the security system to sound confident.
She reached for my mother's mug again.
“You know what your problem is?”” she asked.
“I have several guesses.””
“You think being Marcus's son means the world owes you something.””
I laughed once, without humor.
“I think being his son should mean he listens when I tell him the truth.””
Her smile vanished.
For a moment, the kitchen became very quiet.
Then she stood and moved toward me.
“Let me explain something, Ethan. Your father is exhausted. He spends his days working to provide for this family, and every time he comes home, there is another problem involving you.””
“Because you keep creating them.””
She slapped her palm against the counter.
“Watch your mouth.””
I stared at her.
The mask had slipped.
There was no trembling voice now. No frightened wife. No woman pretending she couldn't bear to look at the boy who had supposedly attacked her.
There was only Vanessa, angry that I had dared to speak.
“You think I'm afraid of you?”” she whispered.
“I'm the only reason your father hasn't given up on you.””
“My mother died. That doesn't mean you get to replace her by rewriting everything that happens in this house.””
Her face hardened.
“Your mother is gone.””
“I know.””
“Then perhaps you should stop using her as an excuse for everything you do.””
I felt the words hit somewhere deep.
Vanessa knew exactly where to aim.
My mother had been dead for eight years, but I still remembered the smell of her vanilla lotion and the sound of her singing while she washed dishes. I remembered the way she used to stand in my doorway whenever I had nightmares, promising that tomorrow would be better.
After she died, my father had become quieter. He worked longer hours and spent less time at home. For a while, we had managed by ourselves.
Then Vanessa arrived.
At first, she seemed kind.
She brought groceries when Dad forgot to shop. She helped me with a science project. She attended one of my basketball games and cheered loudly enough to embarrass me.
I had wanted to believe she cared.
I had wanted my father to be happy.
So when he proposed to her, I smiled for the photographs.
And when she moved into our house, I tried to make room for her.
The trouble began after the wedding, when she discovered that kindness no longer had to be performed for an audience.
She started changing things.
My mother's photographs disappeared from the living room.
The furniture was replaced.
The garden my mother had planted was redesigned without anyone asking me.
Then came the accusations.
Small ones at first.
A missing bracelet.
An unpaid bill.
A broken glass.
Eventually, no mistake in the house was complete until she found a way to attach my name to it.
I looked at her now and realized that I was finished pretending I didn't see the pattern.
“You planned last night,” I said.
She blinked.
“Excuse me?””
“You didn't just tear your dress. You wanted Dad to find us like that. You wanted him to hit me.””
A slow smile appeared on her face.
“That is a terrible thing to say about someone who has welcomed you into her life.””
“Just tell me why.””
“Why what?””
“Why are you trying to get rid of me?””
She laughed.
It wasn't a pleasant sound.
“Because you're making it very difficult for your father to build a future.””
“Our future was fine before you arrived.””
Her expression changed.
“You know what happens to boys who think the world revolves around them? They grow up into men nobody wants to be around.””
I moved toward the stairs.
“I'm going to find the footage.””
“You can try.””
I stopped.
She lifted my mother's mug to her lips, took a slow sip, and added, “But perhaps you should ask yourself why your father trusts me more than he trusts you.””
I had no answer.
That was what hurt most.
Because deep down, I knew the answer had nothing to do with the truth.
It had to do with which one of us my father had decided was easier to believe.
I went upstairs and retrieved the old laptop I used for school. The security system was connected to my father's office computer, but the camera app could also be accessed through the family network.
I had helped Dad set it up months earlier.
He'd said it would be useful if we ever needed to check whether a package had been delivered.
I'd never imagined I would need it to prove that I hadn't assaulted someone in my own home.
The login screen appeared.
I entered the password.
Incorrect.
I tried again.
Incorrect.
My heart began to pound.
I used the password my father had given me, then the backup combination we had written inside the security manual.
Both failed.
I stared at the screen.
Someone had changed the access credentials.
My phone vibrated.
A message from Noah appeared.
*NOAH:* Dude, are you okay? You disappeared last night.
I typed back.
*ME:* Not really. Vanessa framed me and Dad hit me.
Three dots appeared, disappeared, then returned.
*NOAH:* What? Ethan, you need proof. Do you have any?
*ME:* There's a camera. But I can't get into the recordings.
*NOAH:* Then get your dad to look at them.
I almost laughed.
*ME:* He believes her.
*NOAH:* Then make him look.
I stared at those four words.
Make him look.
Perhaps Noah was right.
I could spend the rest of my life arguing with Vanessa, or I could find a way to put the truth directly in front of my father.
I closed the laptop and went downstairs.
Marcus was sitting at the dining table in his work clothes, reading something on his phone. His coffee sat untouched beside a plate of toast.
He looked up when I entered.
His gaze dropped to my face.
For one second, I thought he might apologize.
Instead, he frowned.
“You look terrible.””
I gripped the back of a chair.
“Can we talk?””
“If this is about last night—”
“It is.””
He sighed and put down his phone.
“Ethan, I have a meeting in forty minutes.””
“Then it'll only take five. Please.””
Something in my voice made him hesitate.
I pulled out the chair opposite him and sat down.
“Dad, I need you to watch the security footage.””
His expression tightened.
“Your stepmother is still shaken.””
“I'm still bleeding.””
He looked away.
I waited.
Finally, he said, “I shouldn't have hit you.””
The words caught me off guard.
For one beautiful moment, I thought we had reached each other.
Then he continued.
“But you need to understand the position you put me in.””
I stared at him.
“What position?””
“You and Vanessa living under the same roof, fighting constantly. I can't spend every day deciding which one of you is telling the truth.””
“You don't have to decide. The camera recorded it!””
“Enough with the camera.””
“Why won't you look?””
“Because I don't want this family turning into a courtroom!””
I felt my throat tighten.
“You already turned it into one. You just gave the verdict before hearing the evidence.””
Marcus stood abruptly, his chair scraping across the floor.
“Watch your tone.””
“I'm not trying to disrespect you. I'm trying to make you understand that she lied!””
He rubbed a hand over his face.
“Ethan, I'm asking you to let this go.””
“Would you ask her to let it go if I had actually hurt her?””
He didn't answer.
“Would you tell her to forget it if I had really attacked her?””
“That's enough.””
“Dad, look at me!””
He turned.
I had never been so desperate for him to see me.
“I'm your son,” I whispered.
“You taught me that the truth matters. You taught me that if I made a mistake, I should admit it and face the consequences. I'm asking you to do the same thing now.
Check the recording. If I'm lying, I'll apologize to Vanessa myself.””
Marcus's eyes shifted toward the staircase.
For the first time, he seemed uncertain.
“Where is the security manual?”” he asked.
“On your office shelf.””
He walked toward the study.
I followed him.
He opened a cabinet, pulled out the manual, and flipped through the pages. His brow furrowed as he reached the section about remote access.
“That's odd,” he murmured.
“What?””
“The credentials were changed last night.””
My stomach dropped.
“By who?””
“Only an administrator can change them.””
He looked at me.
I shook my head immediately.
“I didn't touch them.””
He studied me for a long moment.
Then, from somewhere behind us, Vanessa spoke.
“Marcus, darling, what are you doing?””
She stood in the doorway holding a stack of folded towels.
Her smile was in place.
Her eyes were not.
Marcus held up the manual.
“I'm checking the security system. Ethan says there's footage from last night.””
The towels slipped slightly in her hands.
“Footage?””
“Yes. And somebody changed the password.””
Vanessa recovered quickly.
“Oh, that's probably a technical glitch. You know how these things are.””
Marcus glanced at the manual again.
“No. This system logs every administrator change.””
She took a step into the room.
“Marcus, sweetheart, you don't need to waste your morning on this. Ethan is upset, and I understand that, but we should focus on moving forward.””
“I'm not moving forward without finding out what happened,” he said.
Her smile froze.
I watched her carefully.
For the first time, my father was asking a question she couldn't answer with tears alone.
Then Marcus turned a page and frowned.
“Wait a minute.””
He traced a line on the screen with his finger.
“The system didn't lose power last night.””
Vanessa's face went pale.
He looked up at her.
“Someone manually disabled remote access at 8:47 p.m.””
I felt my heart hammer against my ribs.
I remembered exactly where I'd been at 8:47.
Standing in the hallway.
Watching Vanessa tear her dress.
And now the system was telling us that somebody had tried to prevent the recording from being accessed.
My father looked from the screen to his wife.
“Vanessa,” he asked slowly, “why would anyone disable the security system immediately after you accused Ethan of attacking you?””
She didn't answer.
For two seconds, the room remained completely still.
Then she dropped the towels.
May you like
They landed in a soft heap at her feet.
And she began to scream.
