My wife knew the visible light wasn't working.
She apparently assumed that meant the camera itself was dead.
I unlocked my phone.
Opened the security application.
And selected the dining room.
The screen displayed a live view.
My wife stood beside the table.
The two older children sat with their plates.
My daughter remained in her booster chair.
And the small white plate was still in my wife's hand.
I tapped the recordings.
A list of saved events appeared.
Yesterday.
The day before.
Last Thursday.
The previous Monday.
Then dozens of older recordings.
I opened one.
My wife appeared on the screen, standing beside the same dining table.
My daughter was crying.
I turned up the volume.
My wife's voice came through clearly.
"Your father doesn't need another reason to come home disappointed. You're lucky I let you sit with us."
I felt something inside me go cold.
I opened another recording.
My daughter was sitting in her chair with a small plate of food.
My wife reached over, snatched it away, and carried it into the kitchen.
The little girl stretched out her arms.
"Please. I'm still hungry."
My wife's voice followed.
"Then learn how to behave like someone who belongs in this family."
I looked up from the phone.
My wife wasn't smiling anymore.
She stared at the screen.
"Where did you get that?"
I didn't answer.
I opened another video.
This one showed my daughter asking whether I was coming home.
My wife leaned down beside her.
"Your daddy has important things to do. Stop acting like you're the center of his world."
Then she added something that made my stomach turn.
"And don't forget, you're not even his real daughter."
I stood motionless.
For several seconds, the only sound in the dining room was the low hum of the refrigerator.
Then I looked directly at my wife.
"You told me that camera wasn't working."
She swallowed.
"It wasn't supposed to be."
The words came out before she could stop them.
I stared.
"What do you mean, it wasn't supposed to be?"
She looked toward the older children.
Then back at me.
"You're misunderstanding everything."
I took a slow breath.
Then I opened my contacts.
My wife watched my thumb move across the screen.
"Who are you calling?"
I selected the number of our family attorney.