Chapter 1 - The Footage That Never LiesThe sterile smell of the hospital room was a stark contrast to the chaos I had left behind at the mansion. Clara was fast asleep, an IV drip hooked into her bruised arm, her pale face illuminated only by the rhythmic beep of the fetal monitor. The doctor’s words echoed relentlessly in my head: Malnutrition. Distress. Bruises along her ribs.
My mother had done this. While I was traveling across the country, busting my back to secure multi-million-dollar logistics contracts to fund a life of luxury for my family, Eleanor had turned my home into a torture chamber.
I pulled out my phone and dialed Marcus, the head of private security for Vance Logistics.
“Sebastian? I thought you were in the middle of closing the Sterling contract,” Marcus answered, his voice sharp and professional.
“Forget the contract, Marcus. I need you at my house immediately. Pull every single security camera feed from the past eight months. Every hallway, every kitchen corner, every audio log from the smart home system.”
“Sir? Is everything okay?”
“My wife is in the hospital on the verge of losing our child because my mother and her socialite friends treated her like a stray dog,” I snarled, my voice trembling with a rage I had never experienced. “Get the footage, back it up to an encrypted drive, and bring it to me. If a single byte is missing, consider yourself fired.”
Three hours later, Marcus walked into the VIP hospital suite carrying a sleek black laptop. His face was pale, his eyes wide with a mixture of shock and disgust.
“Boss... I’ve seen some corporate espionage in my time, but what’s on this drive... it’s sick,” Marcus said, sliding the laptop onto the bedside table.
“Play it,” I whispered, careful not to wake Clara.
Marcus pressed play.
The screen flickered to life, showing the kitchen from six months ago. Clara was heavily pregnant and visibly exhausted, leaning against the counter while trying to prep a meal. Eleanor walked in, snatched the cutting board right out of her hands, and shoved her against the kitchen island.
“You useless parasite,” Eleanor’s voice spat through the speakers. “My son didn’t marry a woman with pedigree; he married a charity case. You will eat what we give you, and you will do it out of sight.”
Another clip fast-forwarded to a month later. Julian, my younger brother—whom I had put through an Ivy League business school and set up as a regional vice president in my company—walked into the frame. He looked at Clara, who was sweeping the floor, and deliberately kicked a cup of coffee over the freshly cleaned tiles.
“Clean it up, sister-in-law,” Julian laughed, walking past her without a care in the world. “Mom says beggars can't be choosers, and you’re living under our roof now.”
My fists clenched so tightly my nails dug into my palms, drawing blood. It wasn't just Eleanor. Julian was in on it too. They had systematically abused, starved, and humiliated the woman who had sold her grandmother's earrings to feed us both when we had nothing.
“There’s more, Sebastian,” Marcus said grimly, clicking to a folder marked Financial & Communications. “It’s not just the abuse. Look at this.”
He opened a digital document containing text message logs between Eleanor and Julian.
My breath caught in my throat.
They weren't just treating Clara like a servant because of snobbery. There was a master plan. A meticulously calculated, cold-blooded conspiracy.
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According to the messages, they were planning to legally declare Clara mentally unstable due to "pregnancy stress," force her into a psychiatric facility right after the baby was born, and take full custody of the child. Once the child was secured, they planned to manipulate me into signing over power of attorney of Vance Logistics to Julian, claiming I was "distraught and incompetent."
My mother and my brother weren't just cruel. They were plotting to steal my company, my child, and my entire life.
