Chapter 2 - The Digital Evidence
I grabbed Dr. Reed by the wrist, my fingers digging into his white coat.
"I need a laptop with internet access right now," I pleaded frantically.
Dr. Reed looked at me with deep concern, gently trying to pull his arm away.
"Mrs. Vance, your blood pressure is spiking dangerously high," he said.
"If you do not get me a computer, my husband is going to finish the job," I cried.
The sheer panic in my eyes must have convinced him.
He nodded slowly, stepping out of the room and returning a minute later with his personal laptop.
I balanced the heavy machine on my lap, my hands shaking as I typed in my smart home login credentials.
The loading screen spun for a few agonizing seconds before the camera dashboard appeared.
I clicked on the archived footage from the afternoon of the stabbing.
The video buffered, and then a crystal-clear image of my living room filled the screen.
I saw myself sitting on the sofa, scrolling through my phone while Flynn sliced an apple nearby.
Then, the front door swung open, and Selina walked in.
She was not crying, and she was not bleeding.
I watched in absolute horror as she reached into her expensive designer purse.
She pulled out a small, sharp paring knife.
Without a flinch, she dragged the blade across her own forearm, drawing a thin line of blood.
Flynn stood up from his chair, walking over to her.
Selina immediately dropped her knife onto the rug and forced a dramatic sob.
"Mabel pushed me," Selina lied on the audio recording.
"She tried to hurt me."
Then, the most terrifying moment of my life played out on the screen.
Selina leaned forward and whispered directly into Flynn's ear.
"Do it now, and we keep the company," she hissed.
Flynn did not look shocked or confused by her words.
His eyes turned completely cold, and he nodded in silent agreement.
He dropped the apple, picked up his own knife from the table, and walked toward me.
I slammed the laptop shut, unable to watch the brutal attack unfold again.
My husband had not experienced a sudden psychotic break.
He had sold my life, and the lives of my unborn children, for corporate control.
Before I could even process the magnitude of this betrayal, the hospital room door handle began to jiggle violently.
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Someone was trying to force their way into the intensive care unit.
And I knew it wasn't a nurse.
