found a folder on my husband’s laptop: “House cam.”
It had secretly recorded videos of me: asleep, showering… I panicked.
I confronted him, and he smirked, “That’s not the part you should worry about.”
He then opened a second folder. I froze when I saw my sister’s name on it.
My hands went numb. I could barely speak. He clicked the folder, and there were dozens of videos—some of her sitting on our couch, flipping through a magazine, others where she was in the guest room, brushing her hair, changing clothes.
I whispered, “What is this, Landon?”
He leaned back in his chair like this was nothing. “Don’t act so shocked. She’s the one who installed the camera.”
I blinked, confused. “What?”
“She helped me set it up. Told me you were ‘changing’—that you were hiding something. Said she didn’t trust you.”
