Chapter 4 - The Web of Falsehoods
Vivian’s hands began to shake violently. She snatched the iPad and slammed it screen-down onto the couch, her head snapping up to look at me.
“Daniel!” she gasped, her voice instantly shifting from sweet matriarch to defensive predator. “This... this is a complete invasion of my privacy! You recorded me in your home without my knowledge?!”
“This is my home, Vivian,” I corrected her, my voice drop-forged steel. “And you were torturing my wife while she was recovering from surgery.”
“I was not torturing her!” Vivian raised her voice, standing up so abruptly that Oliver startled awake in her arms and began to cry. “I was pushing her! She is lazy, Daniel! She lies in that bed all day while you are out working your fingers to the bone! Someone has to build some discipline in her! I did it for you! I did it for this family!”
“You crushed her prescription pain medication,” I said, taking a step forward. “You made a woman with abdominal stitches crawl on a oak floor to pick up glass.”
“She overreacts!” Vivian shrieked, her mask completely slipping away to reveal the raw, ugly narcissism beneath. “She’s soft! You married a weak, pitiful girl who can’t even handle a little discomfort! I am your mother! I raised you! How dare you judge me over a five-minute video?!”
The front door opened quietly behind me.
Natalie walked into the living room, stepping beside me, her arms crossed over her chest.
Vivian’s eyes widened when she saw her daughter standing there.
“Natalie?” Vivian stammered. “What are you doing here? Tell your brother to stop this madness! He’s spying on me!”
Natalie looked at our mother with a mixture of profound pity and absolute disgust.
“He’s not crazy, Mom,” Natalie said, her voice trembling slightly before finding its footing. “He knows the truth. Just like I do. You did the exact same thing to me four years ago when I lost my baby.”
Vivian stared between the two of us, her chest heaving. The realization that her two children were standing united against her was a scenario her arrogant mind had never prepared for.
“You... you ungrateful little brat!” Vivian spat at Natalie. “After everything I did for you during your divorce?! I took care of you! I protected you!”
“You isolated me!” Natalie shouted back, tears spilling over her lashes. “You destroyed my confidence! You made me believe I was worthless so I would depend on you forever! But you’re not going to do it to Emma! Not to my nephew!”
At that moment, the hallway door opened slowly.
Emma stood leaning against the doorframe, wrapped in a thick robe, holding onto the wall for support. Her face was pale, her eyes red, but as she looked at me and Natalie standing in front of Vivian, a faint spark of hope lit up in her tired eyes.
I immediately walked over to Emma, wrapped my arm securely around her waist to take her weight, and guided her gently to a soft armchair away from Vivian.
“You’re safe now, Em,” I whispered, kissing her forehead. “She’s never touching you or Oliver again.”
Vivian stood in the middle of the room, clutching my crying son, looking around at the three of us. She realized she had lost control of the physical room.
So she resorted to her ultimate weapon: public perception.
“Fine!” Vivian sneered, pulling out her personal cell phone with her free hand. “Think what you want! But by tonight, the entire family—your aunts, your uncles, your cousins, and my three hundred friends online—will know that you threw your own mother out on the street because your unstable wife threw a manic fit!”
She tapped her phone screen rapidly, preparing to post a pre-written victim statement to her social media accounts.
May you like
I pulled out my phone and held it up.
“Go ahead and post it, Mom,” I said calmly. “Because the moment you hit publish, my automated system will broadcast the unedited nursery video directly to every single person tagged in your friend list.”
