“For what?”
“She dumped snacks all over the floor and then spilled the bucket.”
Malik looked down immediately.
Zoe stared at her mother.
I noticed both.
Renee continued.
“I told her to clean it.”
“That’s all.”
I looked at Nia.
“Is that what happened?”
She swallowed.
Renee answered for her.
“Yes.”
I turned.
“I asked her.”
Something hard moved across Renee’s face.
For a moment, I saw irritation.
Then it disappeared.
“Nia?”
I asked again.
My daughter moved her hands farther beneath her shirt.
Renee folded her arms.
“She does this.”
“Does what?”
“Acts helpless the second you walk in.”
Nia flinched.
I heard it more than saw it.
A short breath.
I took one step toward her.
Renee stepped sideways again.
That was when I took out my phone.
Her expression changed.
Only slightly.
“What are you doing?”
I opened the home-security application.
“We installed the camera after the package theft.”
Renee stared.
“I know.”
“No.”
I looked directly at her.
“You knew there was a camera.”
“You apparently forgot it records audio.”
All the color left her face.
Malik looked up.
Zoe whispered:
“Mom.”
Renee turned sharply toward her.
“Go upstairs.”
Neither child moved.
I tapped the screen.
The recording had already been saved.
Not because I was suspicious of my wife.
Not initially.
My phone had alerted me at work thirty-seven minutes earlier because the living-room camera registered unusual movement close to the floor for more than ten minutes.
Normally I ignored those notifications.
The camera picked up toys.
The dog before we rehomed him with my brother after Renee developed allergies.
Kids.
Delivery people visible through the front window.
But that afternoon, something made me look.
Maybe instinct.
Maybe luck.
Maybe the fact that I had received three notifications in eleven minutes.
I opened the feed during a break at the construction management office where I worked.
At first, I saw Nia kneeling.