How My Husband Planned My Ruin and Built His Own Downfall
I dragged the entire *REC_04* folder onto the drive.
A progress bar appeared on the screen, slowly filling with blue.
*Copying… 45% remaining.*
I looked toward the sewing room door, listening for any sound in the hallway.
The house was silent, save for the hum of the laptop fan.
*Copying… 82% remaining.*
The mouse pad felt cold under my thumb.
The transfer finished with a quiet chime.
I ejected the USB drive and slipped it into the zippered pocket of my cardigan.
I ejected the MicroSD card next, placing it back inside the tiny plastic baggie I had found.
I stood up, walked to my sewing mannequin, and pinned the baggie deep inside the heavy wool lining of an unfinished coat.
No one would look there.
I closed the laptop, placed the decorative cloth back over it, and sat in the dark.
My heart hammered against my ribs like a trapped bird.
A pair of headlights swept across the closed blinds of the sewing room.
I heard the heavy iron gates of the estate groan open, then click shut.
Jared was home.