Chapter 2 - The Second Phone

I stood beside our bed with my own phone in one hand and Solomon’s black phone glowing on the nightstand.

Jennifer’s messages remained on the screen.

Are we still good for tomorrow?

Make sure you turn off the cameras first.

Tell Charlotte to take Theo to the park for longer this time.

I photographed everything again.

Then I forced myself to stop.

Every instinct I had wanted to pick up the black phone, unlock it, search every conversation, and drag every secret into the light before Solomon came home.

But rage was exactly what Solomon would expect from me.

I needed him to keep believing I knew nothing.

Theo was in the kitchen eating cereal when I came downstairs.

He looked up at me with a spoon halfway to his mouth.

“Mom, are you mad?”

I sat beside him.

“Not at you.”

“Are you mad at Daddy?”

The question landed harder than I expected.

I touched his hair.

“I’m figuring something out.”

Theo lowered his voice.

“Grandma said you get scary when people upset you.”

I looked at him.

“When did she say that?”

“When I told her I wanted to tell you about Aunt Jennifer.”

My fingers tightened around the edge of the table.

“What else did Grandma say?”

Theo stared into his cereal.

“She said if I told, you would yell at Daddy. Then Daddy would leave. Then it would be because of me.”

I had to look away for a moment.

Not because I was going to cry.

Because I was afraid Theo would see the anger on my face and think Charlotte had been right.

I took a breath.

“Theo, listen to me.”

He looked up.

“Nothing grown-ups do to each other is ever your fault. Do you understand?”

He nodded uncertainly.

“If Daddy and I argue, that is not because of you.”

“Even if I told?”

“Especially if you told.”

He reached for my hand.

“Okay.”

I squeezed his fingers.

Then I made the first decision of the day.

I texted my father.

Can Theo spend the afternoon with you? I have something important to handle.

He answered almost immediately.

Of course. Everything okay?

I stared at the question.

Not yet.

I typed:

I’ll explain later. Please don’t mention it to anyone.

My father replied with one word.

Understood.

That was my father. He knew the difference between worry and panic.

At nine fifteen, Solomon texted.

Forgot my black charger. If you see it, leave it on my desk.

Black charger.

Not black phone.

Interesting.

I walked upstairs and placed the secondary phone exactly where I had found it.

Then I searched for the charger.

It was plugged into the wall behind his side of the bed.

I left it there.

At nine twenty-seven, the black phone lit again.

Jennifer:

Your mother is making this complicated. She wants an answer about the house before next week.

My breath stopped.

The house.

I photographed the message.

A second notification appeared.

Jennifer:

I told you I’m not doing another year of this unless you fix it.

Then nothing.

I did not touch the phone.

I did not need to.

At ten, my father arrived to pick up Theo.

He was sixty-eight, silver-haired, and still moved with the deliberate calm that had made people underestimate him his entire life.

He crouched when Theo ran toward him.

“Ready for pancakes?”

Theo grinned.

“It’s not breakfast anymore.”

“It is at Grandpa’s house.”

Theo laughed and ran to get his backpack.

My father looked at me.

“What happened?”

“Not in front of him.”

His expression changed.

He did not ask again.

When Theo came back, my father took his hand.

“We’ll be at my place.”

“Thank you.”

He paused at the door.

“Call me before you do anything irreversible.”

I almost smiled.

“You know me too well.”

“That is why I said it.”

After they left, I opened the smart-home application again.

The camera outages were only one piece.

The audit system also logged every manual command from the hallway panel.

I had never bothered reading those logs because there had never been a reason.

Now I downloaded twelve months of activity.

The pattern was immediate.

Camera override.

Exterior feed disabled.

Guest Wi-Fi enabled.

Guest Wi-Fi disabled.

Camera feed restored.

The guest network caught my attention.

Solomon and I almost never used it.

But every time Charlotte arrived and the cameras went dark, someone activated it.

I checked connected-device history.

Most of the device names were meaningless strings of letters and numbers.

But several had manufacturer tags.

One was an Apple phone.

Another was a laptop.

Another was a small wireless camera.

I stared at that final entry.

A camera connected to the guest network while our exterior cameras were intentionally offline.

That did not fit an affair.

An affair required privacy.

A hidden camera required documentation.

I printed the logs.

Then I called the only attorney I trusted enough not to panic before I finished explaining.

Her name was Maya Chen.

She had handled my father’s estate planning for almost a decade and had helped set up the legal arrangement that kept the house solely in his name after my marriage.

She answered on the third ring.

“Tell me you’re not calling because your father wants to rewrite the trust again.”

“I wish.”

Her tone changed instantly.

“What happened?”

“I need to ask you a hypothetical question.”

“I hate hypothetical questions.”

“My husband may be having an affair.”

Silence.

“Okay.”

“And his mother may be helping him hide it.”

A longer pause.

“Still okay.”

“And I found evidence that someone connected a wireless camera inside my house during the same periods the exterior security cameras were manually disabled.”

“Stop.”

I did.

“Is Theo safe?”

“With my father.”

“Good. Are you alone?”

“Yes.”

“Do not confront Solomon.”

“I wasn’t planning to.”

“Do not search devices you are not authorized to access.”

“I haven’t.”

“Do not delete anything.”

“I won’t.”

“And do not tell your father yet if you think he’ll go after Solomon with a golf club.”

Despite everything, I laughed once.

“He would use a shovel. Better reach.”

Maya sighed.

“I’m serious.”

“So am I.”

She was quiet for another moment.

“Send me the logs you can lawfully access and the photographs you took of notifications that appeared in plain view.”

“I already have them organized.”

“Of course you do.”

I emailed the files while we spoke.

Then I told her about Jennifer’s newest message.

Your mother is making this complicated. She wants an answer about the house before next week.

Maya stopped me.

“What house?”

“Ours.”

“Your father’s house.”

“Yes.”

“Has Solomon asked you to sign anything recently?”

“No.”

“Has he asked your father?”

“I don’t know.”

“Find out.”

I looked toward the front windows.

The house suddenly felt unfamiliar.

The staircase.

The hallway panel.

The bedroom.

Every ordinary room had become part of a pattern I did not yet understand.

Maya continued.

“One more question.”

“What?”

“Do you remember the exact wording of Jennifer’s message?”

“Yes.”

“Not ‘my house.’ Not ‘your house.’ She said ‘the house.’”

“So?”

“So people use neutral language when they’re discussing an asset as part of a plan.”

I swallowed.

“You think they want the property.”

“I think I don’t know what they want.”

She paused.

“But I think your marriage may not be the only thing they’ve been lying about.”

At eleven forty-five, the garage door opened.

I looked at the security feed.

Solomon’s car pulled in.

He was home almost three hours earlier than expected.

I closed the laptop.

The black phone was still upstairs.

My father had Theo.

The printed audit logs were inside a folder in my desk drawer.

And Solomon believed I knew nothing.

I heard the front door open.

“Hey?”

His footsteps crossed the foyer.

“Are you home?”

I walked into the kitchen and forced my face into the expression I had worn for seven years.

Normal.

Tired.

Trusting.

Solomon entered.

He smiled.

“Meeting got canceled.”

“Lucky you.”

He kissed my cheek.

His eyes moved around the room.

“Where’s Theo?”

“With Dad.”

“For what?”

“Pancakes.”

Solomon laughed.

“At noon?”

“You know my father.”

He opened the refrigerator.

Then, too casually, he said:

“Did you happen to go upstairs this morning?”

I reached for my coffee.

“Yes.”

His hand stopped inside the refrigerator.

“For what?”

I looked at him.

“My clothes live there.”

He smiled.

“Right.”

For the first time, I saw the effort behind it.

Solomon closed the refrigerator.

“I left something on the nightstand.”

“Your charger?”

His eyes snapped toward me.

I shrugged.

“You texted me.”

“Right.”

Another smile.

Then he walked upstairs.

I remained in the kitchen.

Thirty seconds later, a floorboard creaked above me.

Then another.

Then silence.

My phone buzzed.

Maya.

I opened her text.

Call your father now. Ask whether Solomon has approached him about the property. Do not wait.

May you like

[COMPLETED] She waited ten years for her fiancé, but the night she marri...

[COMPLETED] Five Years After My Mafia Husband Chose Another Woman, He Me...

[COMPLETED] I CALLED MY HUSBAND 18 TIMES WHILE OUR SON WAS DYING. EIGHT...

Upstairs, Solomon’s footsteps stopped directly above my head.

And for the first time, I wondered whether he was reading the messages on that black phone and realizing one of them had already exposed far more than Jennifer intended.