“Yes?”
“Were you recording before the picture?”
Eli hesitated.
“Yes.”
Vanessa turned.
“What?”
Eli pointed toward the small camera mounted beside his main camera.
“You asked for behind-the-scenes footage for the birthday video.”
Vanessa’s face changed.
“How much?”
“Pretty much all of it.”
“Delete the part by the fireplace.”
Marcus looked at her.
“No.”
Vanessa stared.
“Excuse me?”
“Do not delete anything.”
Eli looked between them.
“Marcus, I can just give you the raw card.”
“Please.”
Vanessa stepped forward.
“This is ridiculous.”
Marcus held out his hand.
Eli removed the memory card from the secondary camera, placed it into a small plastic case, and gave it to him.
Marcus put it in his pocket.
Vanessa laughed nervously.
“You think you need evidence against your own wife?”
“I think I need to know what happens in my house when I’m not paying attention.”
The phrase struck her.
Vanessa looked around at the guests.
“Can we discuss this privately?”
“We will.”
“When?”
“After everyone leaves.”
Her voice lowered.
“Marcus.”
He looked at her.
“My daughter is upstairs crying on my birthday because she thinks telling me how you treat her would make me unhappy.”
Vanessa’s eyes hardened.
“Oh, please.”
Marcus went still.
She saw the mistake instantly.
“That's not what I meant.”
“What did you mean?”
“She manipulates you.”
“Thirteen.”
“She is thirteen, not five.”
“Correct.”
“She knows exactly how to make you feel guilty.”
“For what?”
“For moving on.”
There it was.
Marcus stared.
Vanessa continued, too angry now to stop.
“Every time Aisha comes up, you become someone else.”
Marcus’s expression became cold.
“My dead wife is not on trial.”
“I didn’t say that.”
“You just blamed my daughter for reminding me she existed.”
“No.”
“Yes.”
Vanessa looked toward the staircase.
“I have spent three years trying to build a life in a house where another woman is everywhere.”
Marcus’s voice remained controlled.
“You moved into the home my daughter grew up in.”
“I know.”
“You knew Aisha died.”
“Yes.”
“You knew Tiana had a mother before you.”
“Yes.”
“Then why does any of that require removing her from a picture?”
Vanessa opened her mouth.
Nothing came.
Marcus waited.
That silence became its own confession.
Guests were truly watching now.
Marcus’s mother approached.
“Son.”
He turned.
She touched his arm.
“Not here.”
He nodded.
She was right.
Marcus faced the room.
“I’m sorry, everybody.”
He forced enough composure for politeness.
“Family situation.”
“Please eat.”