Chapter 7 - THE HIDDEN CAMERAI discovered it by accident—a tiny, imperceptible lens tucked behind the headboard of the bed. It wasn't Diane’s. It was Matthew’s.

My heart shattered. He wasn't protecting me; he was studying me. He was analyzing my trauma, tracking my recovery, and documenting my every movement for some sick psychological file.
I packed a bag, my hands shaking. I had to leave.
As I reached for the door, it swung open. Matthew stood there, his face unreadable. "Going somewhere, Emily?"