He carefully stepped over my twitching legs to reach the counter.

He picked up his car keys and his wallet.

Then he walked out of the kitchen, leaving me screaming on the floor.

The video ended, looping back to a static black menu screen.

The silence in my hospital room was absolute.

Only the steady, rhythmic beep of my heart monitor broke the quiet.

Margaret’s jaw hung open, her mouth working soundlessly.

Her expensive leather handbag slipped from her fingers and hit the linoleum floor with a heavy thud.

“That’s edited,” Ethan stammered, his voice shaking as he pointed a finger at the phone. “She spliced that together.”

“This is raw, unedited footage from a secure cloud server, Mr. Brooks,” Sullivan said, his voice flat.

Sullivan pocketed his phone and looked at the two uniformed deputies standing just outside the door.

“Mrs. Brooks, please put your hands behind your back,” Sullivan said, turning to Margaret.

“You can’t touch me,” Margaret hissed, backing up until her spine hit my bedside table. “Do you know who my family is?”

The deputy stepped into the room and grabbed her wrists with practiced ease.