Chapter 5

"Ethan, why are you back? Didn't I tell you not to go home?"

Helen’s voice blared through the speaker of Ethan’s phone. He had put her on speakerphone in his car and shared his live location with me after starting a call recording.

"Just grabbing a few things."

"What could be so important that you have to grab it today? Your wife is in the hospital. Shouldn't you be with her?"

"I’ll be quick. I'll head back right after. Mom, where are you?"

"I’m at the hospital. Just stepped out to buy some fruit. Why?"

"Nothing."

He hung up.

I lay in the hospital bed, my phone resting face-up on the pillow.

Twelve minutes later, a text from Ethan popped up.

[Cloud storage has the recording. Downloading now.]

Six minutes passed.

[Chloe, the living room footage. I’m watching it.]

Then came a long, agonizing silence.

The chat screen remained frozen on those words. The "typing..." indicator in the corner flashed, disappeared, and flashed again.

It repeated seven or eight times.

Finally, a message came through.

[How long did you kneel?]

I stared at those words, my lips dry and cracked.

[Twenty minutes.]

The other side went silent again.

This time, the silence lasted so long I thought he wouldn't reply.

Then, my phone vibrated.

It wasn't a text.

It was a call.

I answered.

There was no sound on the other end.

No, there was—a faint, choked breath, as if something was blocking his throat.

"Ethan."

"...I saw it."

His voice was hoarse. It wasn't the hoarseness of exhaustion; it was the sound of someone completely broken from the inside.

"You knelt for twenty minutes. My mother slapped you. You were bleeding. And my father just sat there on the sofa."

He paused, his breath hitching.

"And at the end... they watched you drag yourself to the door. After you left, they looked at each other."

"And then?"

"They smiled."

When he spoke that word, his voice cracked violently.

"They smiled. Your dress was covered in blood, you were leaning against the wall to walk, and they just sat on the sofa, looked at each other, and smiled."

A loud crashing sound echoed through the phone, like a fist slamming hard against a steering wheel.

Then came his voice again. It was no longer hoarse, but terrifyingly clear.

"Chloe, why didn't you tell me?"

"Do you think I had a single chance to speak?"

He fell silent.

"When you got to the hospital, your mother kept her hand on your shoulder. Your father sat in the corner, playing his part. Jessica was standing at the door with herbal broth, waiting for her cue. When was I supposed to tell you?"

"Jessica—"

"Ethan, Jessica knows your father’s underwear size. She brought him a change of clothes, and the nurse thought she was a family member. Go check that bag of clothes. Are his personal items in there?"

Silence stretched over the line.

Fifteen seconds later.

"I checked."

His voice had completely changed, cold as steel.

"There's an undershirt, boxers, and a can of shaving cream. The brand is—"

"Gillette, menthol. The exact brand your father has used for over a decade. Jessica has only known your father for three months, yet she knows that."

"Three months?"

"On my birthday in May, I invited her over for dinner. Your father poured her drinks three times. The very next week, she came over when I wasn't home, claiming she wanted to borrow a book. I wasn't there."

"You weren't there... Who opened the door?"

"Take a guess."

The phone went dead silent.

I could hear his heavy, ragged breathing, like a man who had been underwater for too long and finally surfaced.

"I'm coming back to the hospital."

"What do you plan to do when you get back?"

"I don't know. But I won't let you suffer another second of this."

"Ethan."

"Yeah?"

"Did you export the security footage?"

"Yes. One copy on my phone, one on a flash drive."

"Don't delete it."

"I won't."

"There’s one more thing."

"Tell me."

"Isn't there a family dinner this Sunday? The one where your uncles and aunts are all coming?"

"...Yes."

"Bring the flash drive."

Silence for three seconds.

"Chloe, are you sure?"

"I knelt for twenty minutes, bled through my dress, and lost my baby. Do you think I have any doubts left?"

He took a deep breath.

"Alright."

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