Lydia’s gut told her something was wrong. She didn’t have proof, no solid reason—just a nagging feeling that twisted her stomach into knots. But when she voiced her concern, Mark only laughed it off.
“Lyd, it’s a sleepover. Let her have fun,” he said, casually chopping vegetables at the kitchen counter.
She didn’t share his ease. Their daughter, Ellie, was spending the night at Kara’s house—her first sleepover. And Kara wasn’t just any mom. She was Lydia’s high school rival, the girl who had always been one step ahead, always watching, always smirking. The years had passed, but Lydia never forgot how Kara operated.
“I never trusted that woman,” Lydia muttered, gripping her car keys so tightly her knuckles turned white.
Mark sighed, setting the knife down. “People change, Lydia. You’re overthinking this.”
But the feeling wouldn’t leave. She paced the kitchen, arms folded tightly, her foot tapping anxiously against the cool tile.
Then, her phone rang.
The sharp sound sliced through the air. Lydia snatched it up, barely glancing at the screen before answering. “Sweetheart?”
For a moment, silence. Then a whisper so soft she almost missed it:
“Mom, I just saw a camera in the room.”
Lydia’s heart stopped. “What?”
Ellie’s voice trembled. “A camera. I saw a red light. I don’t think it’s supposed to be there.”
The icy dread in Lydia’s stomach solidified. Her instincts had been right all along.
“I’m coming,” she said immediately. She was already grabbing her coat, already heading to the door.
Mark frowned. “Lydia, wait—”
But she was already gone.
Lydia’s fist pounded against the door so hard that her knuckles stung. Her breath came in short, frantic bursts, her pulse roaring in her ears. Every second felt like an eternity.
Finally, the door swung open. Kara stood there, a smile curling at the corners of her lips—smooth, practiced.
“Oh, Lydia,” she purred, leaning lazily against the frame. “Didn’t expect you.”
Lydia didn’t waste a second. She shoved past her, the scent of lavender and expensive hairspray filling her nose as she stormed inside.
“Ellie?” she called, her voice tight with urgency.
There was a shuffle, then the sound of small feet running. Ellie bolted into the room, colliding into Lydia’s chest with such force that Lydia stumbled back. She didn’t care. She wrapped her arms around her daughter, feeling Ellie’s little heart pounding wildly against her own.
“Are you okay?” Lydia murmured, pulling back just enough to cup her daughter’s cheeks. Ellie nodded quickly, eyes wide with fear.
“I didn’t know what to do,” she whispered.
Lydia’s gaze shot to Kara, her entire body stiff with rage. “She found a camera in the room.”
Kara barely blinked. She shrugged, crossing her arms. “It was off.”
Lydia’s hands curled into fists. “Then why was the red light on?”
For the first time, Kara hesitated. It was brief, just a flicker of uncertainty—but Lydia saw it.
“That camera shouldn’t have been on,” Lydia snapped, her voice shaking with fury. “And I don’t care what excuse you give me—I want the footage deleted. Now.”
Kara sighed dramatically, rubbing her temples like this was all an inconvenience. “Fine. But Lydia, you’re being paranoid.”
Lydia ignored her. She grabbed Ellie’s hand. “We’re leaving. And she’s never coming back here.”
As they stormed out, Lydia felt Kara’s eyes burning into her back. She didn’t care.
The drive home was suffocatingly quiet. Lydia’s grip on the steering wheel was so tight her fingers ached. Mark sat beside her, arms crossed, gaze locked on the road ahead.
Finally, he spoke. “Lydia, don’t you think you’re overreacting?”
Lydia snapped her head toward him, eyes blazing. “Overreacting?” Her voice was sharp, incredulous. “There was a camera in the room where our daughter was sleeping!”
Mark exhaled, rubbing his temple. “But Kara said it was for security—”
Lydia let out a harsh laugh. “And you believe her?”
Mark hesitated. “I just think—maybe she had a point.”
Lydia stared at him, her stomach twisting. “You always took her side, didn’t you?”
Mark groaned. “Oh, come on, Lydia—”
She shook her head, turning her eyes back to the road. “I don’t want to hear it.”
Silence filled the car. Heavy. Unbreakable.
The next morning, Lydia stood by the kitchen counter, her coffee cold in her hands. She barely tasted it. She hadn’t slept. Every time she closed her eyes, she saw Ellie’s frightened face, heard Kara’s smug voice.
Across the room, Mark grabbed his jacket.
Lydia frowned. “Where are you going?”
“Work meeting.” His voice was too casual. He didn’t look at her.
Her gut twisted. “You said you had no plans today.”
Mark hesitated for a second, then shrugged. “Something came up.”
The moment his car pulled away, Lydia moved. Heart pounding, she rushed to his office, flipped open his laptop, and pulled up his emails.
Then, she saw it.
A message from Kara.
“Hey, I reviewed the camera footage before deleting it. There’s something you need to see. It’s about Lydia and Ellie. Come by today before I erase it.”
Lydia’s hands shook.
She grabbed her keys and bolted for the door.
She didn’t knock. She shoved the door open so hard it slammed against the wall. Mark stood in the living room, staring at Kara’s laptop screen. His face was pale.
Lydia’s stomach churned. “What is this?”
Mark turned the screen toward her. A video played.
Ellie sat on a bed, her hands clasped in her lap. Her voice was soft but clear. “Sometimes I don’t like being at home. Mom is always mad. It’s better here.”
Lydia recoiled. “That’s not true—”
Then, a small voice interrupted.
“That’s not real.”
They all turned. Kara’s daughter, Emma, stood in the doorway, clutching a stuffed bear. Her lip trembled. “It was just a game. Mom told us to play it.”
Lydia’s breath caught. She turned slowly to Kara, her entire body trembling. “You set this up?”
Kara’s smug expression faltered. “I—”
Mark’s jaw clenched. His voice was low, dangerously quiet. “You’re still on it, aren’t you?”
Kara’s face twisted. “She’s not good enough for you, Mark! I am better!”
Lydia felt something snap inside her.
Mark slammed the laptop shut. “Let’s go.”
Lydia grabbed Ellie’s hand. As they walked away, she didn’t look back.
For the first time in a long time, she knew where she stood—beside her daughter. Where she belonged.