PART 13: What the Cameras Saw That Night

I stopped beside the apartment door.

Andrew knew about the flash drive.

That realization sent a chill through me.

I looked at the representative accompanying me.

“Please document the message.”

She photographed the screen and noted the time.

I did not answer Andrew.

Instead, I completed the inventory and left the penthouse.

The elevator doors closed behind me with a quiet metallic sound.

For years, I had watched those doors open whenever Andrew returned home.

Sometimes I greeted him with dinner.

Sometimes I waited to ask whether he had forgotten another anniversary.

Sometimes I simply listened to his footsteps and tried to judge his mood before speaking.

Now I watched the doors close without feeling the urge to follow him.

Outside, the city moved around me as though nothing had changed.

A taxi honked.

A woman hurried across the sidewalk carrying flowers.

Two teenagers laughed beside a coffee shop.

My marriage was ending, and the world continued.

I found that strangely comforting.

Rebecca met me at her office.

I placed the envelope containing the flash drive on her desk.

“Andrew seems to know what’s on it.”

She examined the messages.

“Do you know who owns the device?”

“No.”

“Then we need to proceed carefully.”

I nodded.

Rebecca explained that we should not access potentially privileged or confidential material simply because the drive had been found in a place where I kept personal belongings.

She arranged for appropriate review to determine how the device should be handled.

I appreciated her caution.

I was tired of people deciding that wanting something made it theirs.

If the drive contained information belonging to Andrew, I did not intend to repeat his disregard for boundaries.

Two days later, Rebecca contacted me with an update.

The device appeared to contain copies of security footage from the Grand Bellmont Hotel and several related files.

The circumstances of its creation and ownership remained unclear.

The hotel was separately preserving relevant recordings after receiving formal requests.

I frowned.

“Why would Andrew have wedding security footage?”

“That is one of the questions being examined.”

“Could it show the kiss?”

“Potentially.”

I closed my eyes.

I had not needed a recording to know what happened.

Three hundred people had witnessed it.

Photographers had captured the moment.

Andrew himself had not denied kissing Lila.

But the existence of the footage suggested he had become concerned about what cameras might show.

“Is there anything important?” I asked.

“Your counsel can evaluate properly obtained material when it becomes available.”

I nodded.

The next morning, Rebecca called again.

The hotel had confirmed preservation of its relevant security footage, and formal procedures were underway to obtain the portions necessary for the legal matters.

She also explained that certain publicly shared wedding photographs could already establish important facts without relying on restricted recordings.

I felt relieved.

I did not want my case built on questionable evidence.

I wanted it built on truth that could withstand scrutiny.

That afternoon, Dad called from a trustee meeting.

“The independent review is moving forward.”

“What have they found?”

“They’ve identified transactions requiring additional explanation and are obtaining the underlying records.”

“Has Andrew responded?”

“His firm has disputed the concerns.”

I looked out the farmhouse window.

“Then let the process continue.”

Dad paused.

“Caroline, are you sure you don’t want to participate in the trust discussions yet?”

“I want to understand them.”

“That’s different from accepting a formal role.”

“I know.”

I had spent years making decisions because other people expected me to.

I did not intend to replace Andrew’s expectations with my family’s.

Dad seemed to understand.

“Take whatever time you need.”

That evening, Andrew unexpectedly sent a message that sounded almost human.

“I miss you.”

I stared at the words.

Then another appeared.

“I miss feeling our daughter move.”

My heart tightened.

Despite everything, Andrew was her father.

I had no desire to erase that reality.

But wanting him to have a healthy relationship with our child did not require me to remain his wife.

I replied through the communication channel Rebecca had recommended.

“Please speak with our attorneys about appropriate arrangements concerning the baby.”

His answer came quickly.

“So that’s it?”

I did not respond.

Then he wrote something that made me sit straighter.

“You don’t know what Lila has been telling people.”

I stared at the screen.

Before I could decide whether to forward the message immediately, another arrived.

“She’s saying I made her sign papers she didn’t understand.”

My heartbeat accelerated.

Then came the final message.

“Caroline, I need you to hear my side before she gives them everything.”