Chapter 2 - THE SECOND CAMERA
The first recording was exactly what Logan expected.
Bernice arriving.
Ignoring Abigail’s request to remove her shoes.
Dragging mud across the floor.
Demanding breakfast.
Demanding ten thousand dollars.
Throwing the mop.
Logan watched without speaking.
His face changed slowly.
Embarrassment first.
Then irritation.
Then something Abigail could not immediately identify.
Fear.
Bernice stood behind him.
“That camera doesn’t show how she spoke to me before that.”
Abigail looked at her.
“It records continuously.”
Bernice’s mouth closed.
Logan paused the video.
“Mom, why did you ask her for ten thousand dollars?”
Bernice folded her arms.
“I told you. Travel expenses.”
“You came by bus.”
“And?”
“From Oakhaven.”
“Yes.”
“That ticket costs thirty-eight dollars.”
Bernice’s expression hardened.
“You keep track of what your mother spends now?”
Logan ignored the bait.
“What is the ten thousand for?”
“It’s none of her business.”
Abigail sat back.
“You asked me for it in my kitchen.”
Bernice pointed at Logan.
“It concerns my son.”
Logan stared.
“What concerns me?”
Bernice hesitated.
There.
Abigail had spent fifteen years editing interviews, reviewing raw footage, and watching people discover too late that silence could be louder than a sentence.
She clicked another file.
“Maybe the hallway camera can help.”
Bernice’s face went pale.
“What hallway camera?”
Abigail did not answer.
The apartment had three security cameras.
One at the front door.
One in the living-room entrance.
And one covering the short hallway leading to Abigail’s office and bedroom.
Logan knew about the first two.
He had never asked about the third.
The footage was from Thursday afternoon.
Two days earlier.
Abigail had been at work.
Logan had told her he was meeting a client.
At 2:18 p.m., the front door opened.
Logan entered.
Bernice followed.
Logan stopped breathing.
“Abigail—”
“Watch.”
They disappeared down the hallway.
At 2:21, Bernice’s voice was picked up clearly.
“Which door?”
Logan:
“Office.”
Bernice:
“She keeps the deed in there?”
Logan lowered his head.
Abigail felt something cold settle in her chest.
She had watched the recording twice before Bernice arrived that morning.
She had hoped there was an explanation.
Now she knew there wasn’t one that would save the wedding.
On-screen, Logan unlocked Abigail’s office using the spare key she kept in a kitchen drawer.
Bernice entered.
Seven minutes later, they came out carrying a red document folder.
The deed.
Abigail’s mortgage discharge.
Property-tax statements.
And a copy of the apartment’s most recent valuation.
Bernice’s voice came through:
“Eight hundred and sixty thousand?”
Logan:
“About that.”
Bernice laughed.
“Well. Then ten thousand is nothing.”
In the kitchen, present-day Logan whispered:
“Oh God.”
Abigail paused the recording.
Bernice exploded.
“You were spying on your own fiancé?”
“No.”
Abigail looked at Logan.
“I was securing my home.”
Bernice laughed.
“His home too.”
“No.”
Abigail’s voice stayed calm.
“He lives here. He does not own it.”
Logan finally looked at her.
“I wasn’t trying to steal anything.”
“Then why did you take my deed?”
“I was going to put it back.”
“That is not an answer.”
He rubbed both hands over his face.
“My mother needed documents for the wedding.”
Abigail stared.
“The wedding planner needs my property deed?”
“No.”
Bernice stepped in.
“We needed proof of assets.”
“Why?”
“Because the hotel requires guarantees.”
Abigail frowned.
“What hotel?”
Silence.
Logan stood.
“Mom.”
Bernice’s voice sharpened.
“She was going to find out eventually.”
“Find out what?”
Abigail asked.
Bernice looked almost offended that she had to explain.
“The wedding venue deposit increased.”
“How much?”
“Forty thousand.”
Abigail stared at Logan.
Their wedding was supposed to be held at a small restored conservatory outside the city.
Total cost: twenty-two thousand.
They had agreed to split it.
“What venue?”
Logan swallowed.
“The Beaumont.”
Abigail laughed once.
The Beaumont Grand Hotel was one of the most expensive wedding venues in the state.
They had never discussed it.
“How many guests?”
Logan did not answer.
Bernice did.
“Two hundred and eighty.”
Abigail felt her pulse slow rather than accelerate.
Dangerously calm.
“Our guest list has eighty-four people.”
Bernice rolled her eyes.
“That was before I fixed it.”
Abigail looked at Logan.
“Fixed it.”
He whispered:
“My mom thought the wedding looked too small.”
“So you changed our wedding without telling me.”
“I was going to explain.”
“When?”
No answer.
Bernice snapped:
“When you stopped being so controlling about every dollar.”
Abigail looked at her.
“My dollars.”
“Our families are joining.”
“That does not join our bank accounts.”
Bernice laughed.
“It will after the wedding.”
Abigail’s eyes returned to Logan.
He looked away.
That movement told her there was more.
She reopened the video.
The camera captured them returning to the hallway thirty minutes later.
Bernice carried a different set of papers.
She said:
“Once she signs the marriage documents, we can refinance later.”
Logan replied:
“She won’t sign anything that puts the apartment in both names.”
Bernice:
“Then you make her feel guilty.”
Logan:
“I’ve tried.”
Abigail stopped the video.
Silence.
He had tried.
She remembered.
Three months earlier:
We’re getting married. Why does it matter whose name is on the apartment?
Two months earlier:
My credit would be better if I had property behind it.
Three weeks earlier:
Do you really think I’d ever take something from you?
Not random conversations.
Pressure.
She closed the laptop.
“Logan.”
He looked at her.
“Pack a bag.”
Bernice gasped.
“You’re throwing my son out?”
“Yes.”
“You cannot.”
Abigail almost smiled.
“It turns out I can.”
Logan stepped toward her.
“Abi, please.”
“Do not call me that right now.”
“I made a mistake.”
“No.”
She looked at the muddy footprints.
“Your mother made a mess.”
Then at the laptop.
“You made a plan.”
His face collapsed.
There was the difference.
Bernice reached for her phone.
“I’m calling the wedding planner.”
Abigail nodded.
“Good.”
She removed her engagement ring.
Placed it on the kitchen counter.
May you like
“Tell her she just lost a bride.”
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