Chapter 2: The Video Doesn't Lie
Nobody spoke.
The security footage kept playing on my phone.
Vanessa's earlier self stood frozen on the screen, one hand inside my blue backpack.
She looked exactly like the woman standing three feet away from us now.
Same sleek bob.
Same burgundy blouse.
Same gold necklace.
Same room.
Same bag.
My father watched the video twice.
Then a third time.
“Stop it,” Vanessa whispered.
I lowered the phone.
“What?””
“Stop playing it.””
Marcus turned toward her.
“Why?””
“Because I said stop.””
His voice became very quiet.
“No.””
Vanessa stared at him.
Marcus pointed at the screen.
“You told me you found it in her bag.””
“I did.””
“You didn't find it.””
Vanessa's lips parted.
“You put it there.””
She looked at me.
Then at him.
Then back at the phone.
“It isn't what you think.””
I almost laughed.
Not because anything was funny.
Because there was nothing else left to do.
“What exactly could it be?””
Vanessa's eyes hardened.
“You've been trying to turn Marcus against me for months.””
“What?””
“You heard me.””
“I didn't do anything to you.””
“You've been disrespectful.””
“I stopped talking to you because every conversation turns into a fight.””
“And whose fault is that?””
Marcus raised a hand.
“Both of you, stop.””
I looked at him.
“Dad, she planted it.””
“I know.””
Those two words hit me harder than I expected.
He knew.
He finally knew.
But the relief lasted only a second.
Because Vanessa stepped toward him.
“Marcus, listen to me.””
He didn't move.
“You lied to me.””
“I panicked.””
“You accused Aaliyah.””
“I didn't know what else to do.””
“You told me to throw my daughter out.””
Vanessa's eyes filled.
“Because I thought she stole from me.””
“You saw yourself put it there.””
“I wasn't thinking.””
I stared at her.
“That doesn't make any sense.””
Vanessa snapped her head toward me.
“You don't know what you're talking about.””
“I know what the camera recorded.””
“You recorded me without my permission.””
I looked at Marcus.
“She's changing the subject.””
Vanessa pointed at me.
“See? This is what I mean.””
Marcus's expression darkened.
“Don't.””
“Don't what?””
“Don't turn this around on her.””
Vanessa lowered her hand.
Silence.
The air conditioner hummed above us.
Somewhere downstairs, the refrigerator clicked on.
Everything sounded painfully normal.
My father held out his hand.
“Aaliyah, send me that video.””
I hesitated.
“Why?””
“Because I want a copy.””
Vanessa's head snapped toward him.
“Marcus.””
He didn't look at her.
“Send it.””
I transferred the recording to his phone.
The notification appeared almost immediately.
Marcus opened it.
He watched the clip alone.
Vanessa stood beside him.
I watched her face instead.
She wasn't looking at Marcus.
She was looking at me.
There was something in her eyes that made the back of my neck prickle.
Not guilt.
Not shame.
Anger.
Cold, concentrated anger.
She had expected me to leave.
She had expected my father to choose her.
And the camera had ruined everything.
Marcus locked his phone.
“Vanessa, why?””
She swallowed.
“I told you. I panicked.””
“That isn't an answer.””
“I was angry.””
“At Aaliyah?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
Vanessa looked away.
I stepped forward.
“Tell him.””
She glared at me.
“Stay out of this.””
“It is about me.””
Marcus nodded.
“She deserves an answer.””
Vanessa's shoulders rose and fell.
“She has been treating me like I don't belong in this family.””
I stared at her.
“You've been treating me like I don't belong in my own home.””
“You're always challenging me.””
“Because you keep making rules for me.””
“Because you're nineteen.””
“Exactly. Nineteen. Not nine.””
Marcus shut his eyes briefly.
“Vanessa.””
She turned to him.
“You don't understand what it's like living with a girl who hates you.””
I shook my head.
“I don't hate you.””
“You do.””
“No. I don't trust you.””
Her expression tightened.
“That is worse.””
Marcus looked between us.
Then his eyes returned to the backpack.
He crouched and picked it up.
He examined the zipper.
“Did you touch this before Vanessa came in?””
I shook my head.
“No.””
“Where were you?””
“In the kitchen.””
“For how long?””
“Maybe ten minutes.””
Vanessa immediately said, “Exactly.””
Marcus looked at her.
“What?””
“She had time.””
“For what?””
“To put it in there.””
I stared at her.
“You're still doing this?””
“I'm saying the camera doesn't prove everything.””
Marcus's eyebrows drew together.
“The camera shows you putting the necklace inside her bag.””
“It doesn't show what happened before.””
I stepped closer.
“What are you implying?””
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“That maybe you took it first.””
My father looked at her like she'd slapped him.
“Enough.””
“But Marcus—”
“No.””
His voice shook the room.
“No more accusations.””
Vanessa went quiet.
Marcus picked up the necklace.
He held it between his fingers.
Then he looked at me.
“Aaliyah, I'm sorry.””
I didn't answer.
He took a step toward me.
“I should've believed you.””
I looked down.
The tears I'd been holding finally slipped down my cheeks.
Marcus's voice softened.
“I'm sorry.””
I wiped my face quickly.
“Why did you doubt me?””
He looked ashamed.
“Because I saw the necklace in your bag.””
“That was enough?””
“No.””
“But it was.””
He had no answer.
I turned away.
Vanessa watched us.
Then she said quietly, “If she stays, I leave.””
Marcus's head turned.
“What?””
“I won't stay in a house where she gets to disrespect me.””
I stared at her.
“You framed me.””
“I made a mistake.””
“You tried to destroy my relationship with my dad.””
“I said I was angry.””
“You told him to throw me out.””
“I was scared.””
Marcus shook his head.
“You weren't scared.””
Vanessa looked at him.
“You don't know what I was feeling.””
“Then tell me.””
She didn't.
Marcus walked toward the bedroom door.
“I'm going downstairs.””
Vanessa followed.
I remained beside my desk.
As they reached the doorway, Marcus stopped.
He turned back.
“Aaliyah?””
“Yeah?””
“Keep the camera recording.””
I nodded.
He left.
Vanessa stayed behind.
She looked at me.
For several seconds, neither of us spoke.
Then she walked back into the room.
She closed the door.
My stomach tightened.
“What are you doing?””
Vanessa's voice dropped.
“You think you won.””
I stared at her.
“I didn't win anything.””
She stepped closer.
“You think that video fixes everything?””
“It proves I didn't steal your necklace.””
She smiled.
Barely.
“No, sweetheart.””
She touched the door handle.
“It proves you were smart enough to install a camera.””
Then she opened the door and walked away.
I stood there, confused.
Until my phone buzzed.
Unknown number.
I opened the message.
There was one sentence.
*You should ask your father what happened the night your mother died.*
My hands went cold.
Because Vanessa wasn't the one who had sent it.
The sender's number belonged to someone I had never heard from before.
And beneath the message was a photograph of my father.
May you like
Taken seventeen years ago.
Standing beside my mother's car.