The Hidden Camera Captured Everything

For seven years, I was the secret wife of Chandler Roberson, a rising political star. I sacrificed my own journalism career to be his "rock," the ghost in the background of his perfect life, always believing his promise that it was all for us. That promise shattered the night he brought his mistress, Britni, to our home. She took one look at me, then threw herself down the stairs, letting out a theatrical scream. "She pushed me!" she cried. Chandler didn't hesitate. He slapped me across the face, his eyes blazing with a rage I'd never seen. "You bitch! What did you do?!" he snarled, rushing to her side. He cradled her in his arms, his face a mask of concern for her and pure hatred for me. He believed her instantly, ready to paint me as a violent, jealous monster to protect his affair and his career. In that moment, watching him choose her, watching my life crumble under his cold, indifferent gaze, the woman who had loved him for twenty years died. But then I was back. Reborn in that same moment, with the memory of his betrayal burning in my soul. And I remembered the one thing he'd forgotten: the hidden camera in the entryway, recording his perfect crime.

Chapters

Chapter 5

Aurelia POV:

The doorbell rang again, insistent this time. I walked to the door, my hand gripping the cold metal of the knob. I took a deep breath, steeling myself. This wasn't the old Aurelia. This wasn't the wife who would cower or cry.

I opened the door. Chandler stood there, looking triumphant, a plastic bag in one hand. And behind him, clinging to his arm, was Britni. Her eyes were red-rimmed and unfocused, her hair slightly mussed, but a sly, almost smug smirk played on her lips. She was swaying just enough to appear convincingly drunk.

"Aurelia, darling," Chandler said, his voice forced light, but his eyes were hard. "Britni had a bit too much champagne celebrating tonight. She's in no state to go home alone." He gestured vaguely with the bag. "I brought you some ice cream, just like I promised."

Britni leaned against him, her head lolling. "Aurelia," she slurred, her voice saccharine, "Chandler says you're so good at making… you know… that hangover soup. Could you… could you make some for poor little me?" She batted her eyelashes, a performance worthy of an Oscar. She was a master manipulator. My stomach churned.

Chandler gave me a pointed look. "She needs looking after, Aurelia. She's distraught over some of the rumors swirling about her. You should be more understanding." He spoke as if I was the cause of her "distress." As if I hadn' t just seen his public declaration of love for her.

I felt a cold dread seep into my bones, quickly followed by a white-hot rage. Here. He brought her here. To our home. And expected me to play hostess? To cook for his mistress?

"Are you serious?" My voice was barely a whisper, laced with disbelief, then rising with a chilling clarity. "You brought your… friend… to our house, in the middle of the night, and you expect me to play nursemaid?"

Chandler' s jaw tightened. "She's my aide, Aurelia. And she's had a rough night. Show some compassion." He pushed the bag of ice cream into my hands. "Now, go make her that soup. She needs it."

My hands, clutching the cold plastic bag, started to tremble. This was it. The absolute, undeniable end. The betrayal wasn't just a wound; it was a gaping, festering chasm.

"Chandler," I said, my voice shaking with a fury I hadn't known I possessed. "Are you telling me that out of all the people in her life, all her 'friends' and 'colleagues' and 'campaign staff,' there isn't a single one who could take her home? She has to come here? She couldn't possibly stay at a hotel? A five-star hotel, perhaps, paid for by your campaign funds?"

His face darkened. "Don't be ridiculous, Aurelia. She's upset. And you're being utterly unreasonable."

"Unreasonable?" I scoffed, a bitter laugh escaping my lips. "You expect me to make soup for your mistress, in my own home, while you parade her around as your 'future' on social media?"

Chandler's face was thunderous. "She is not my mistress! She's a colleague! And you-"

Before he could finish, a piercing shriek echoed through the entryway. Britni, who had been leaning against the wall, suddenly threw herself backward, letting out a theatrical cry. She tumbled down the few steps leading to the main living area, landing with a soft thud.

Chandler's eyes widened in horror. He rushed to her side, dropping to his knees. "Britni! Are you okay?" He gently shook her.

She whimpered, her eyes fluttering open, then fixed on me with a malevolent glare. "She… she pushed me!" she cried, her voice surprisingly strong for someone supposedly injured. "Aurelia pushed me!"

Chandler's head snapped up. His eyes, burning with a cold, righteous fury, locked onto mine. "You bitch! What did you do?!"

I stood there, the ice cream bag still in my hand, my heart hammering against my ribs. This was it. The frame. The accusation. The moment he'd chosen her, irrevocably, over me.

But this time, I was ready.

My hand went to my pocket, pulling out a crisp, white envelope. I held it out to him, my hand steady despite the tremor running through my body.

"Sign these, Chandler," I said, my voice clear and unwavering, cutting through his rage. "Then you and your… aide… can be as happy as you pretend to be. In a house that isn't mine."

He stared at the envelope, then at me, then back at Britni, who was now dramatically clutching her ankle. His face was a mask of confusion, then pure, unadulterated rage. He snatched the papers from my hand.

"What is this nonsense?" he spat, his eyes blazing. He barely glanced at the top-sheet. His name, Aurelia Reese vs. Chandler Roberson, Petition for Dissolution of Marriage. "You think this is funny, Aurelia? A game?"

"It's not a game, Chandler," I said, my voice devoid of emotion. "It's the end."

He ripped the pen from his jacket pocket, his hand shaking with anger. Without a second glance, without reading a single line, he scrawled his signature across the document. "There! Happy now? You want a divorce? Fine! Consider it done! Now get out of my sight!" He threw the pen at my feet.

His eyes were still fixed on me, filled with venom. He clearly thought this was another one of my "dramatic gestures," something he could smooth over later. Something I would regret.

He was wrong. So utterly, irrevocably wrong.

Continue to next part

I thought the Burch family gave me a loving home when they took me out of the orphanage. But when the global deep freeze apocalypse hit, my adoptive parents mercilessly kicked me out of the bunker to freeze to death. As I lay dying in the snow, covered in horrific purple frostbite, my adoptive sister Kendal walked past me in a pristine designer jacket. Around her neck was my only childhood possession—an antique gold necklace my adoptive mother had ripped off my neck to give to her. Kendal gloated, bragging that my pendant held a magical space with infinite supplies and fresh food while the rest of the world starved. I realized I had spent years emptying my life savings to fund their luxury cars and fake medical emergencies. They had drained my bank accounts, stolen my bloodline's heirloom, and used my magical lifeline to live like royalty while leaving me to die. I took my last ragged breath in that blinding blizzard, consumed by a toxic hatred. Why was I so hopelessly weak? Why did I let them take everything from me? Opening my eyes again, the painful frostbite scars were gone. My skin was warm. I grabbed my phone. The screen lit up: November 12. It was exactly three days before the world ended. When my adoptive mother called, faking a tearful emergency to demand another thirty thousand dollars, I smiled coldly. "Just tell me where to send the money, Mom." This time, I'm taking my space back, and I'm going to drain them dry.

Fantasy Horror Sci-Fi

9.0

Buried Alive With My Fake Husband

9.0

I woke up in total darkness, the air smelling of stale chemicals and dying flowers. When I tried to sit up, my forehead slammed into solid wood just three inches from my face. I was trapped in a coffin, buried alive next to the cold, stiff body of my fake husband, Cedric. My stepmother, Hermina, had poisoned our champagne at the gala to seize my trust fund, and now she was hosting a lavish memorial service for us right outside the lid. I found a faint, erratic pulse in Cedric's neck, but I couldn't just scream for help. If Hermina realized the dose wasn't lethal, she'd finish the job with a lethal injection under the guise of medical assistance. To survive, I bit my tongue until I tasted blood and tore my hair into a tangled mess. When I finally kicked the lid open and spilled onto the marble floor, I didn't act like a rescued heiress; I crawled like a broken doll, shrieking about poisoned bubbles and "the bad man" while Manhattan's elite watched in absolute horror. The betrayal was suffocating. My own family watched as Hermina tried to sedate me back into silence, playing the role of a grieving saint while her eyes remained cold as ice. Even more shocking was Cedric, who rose from the casket like a predator, commanding the room with a terrifying authority that proved our entire marriage had been a lie. I couldn't understand how many secrets were buried in that house, or why my "boring" husband was suddenly acting like a man who owned the city. After kneeing Cedric in the stomach to break his iron grip, I bolted out into the torrential rain. I didn't care that I was barefoot or that the world thought I was insane. I had the key to my father's secret safe in my hand, and I was going to make sure Hermina paid for every second of darkness she forced me to endure.

Horror Modern Romance

7.6

He Broke My Spirit, I Soared

7.6

I was the fiancée of the Chicago Outfit’s heir, a bond sealed by blood and eighteen years of history. But when his mistress pushed me into the freezing pool at our engagement gala, Jax didn’t swim toward me. He swam past me. He scooped up the girl who pushed me, cradling her like fragile glass, while I struggled against the weight of my gown in the murky water. When I finally dragged myself out, shivering and humiliated before the entire underworld, Jax didn’t offer a hand. He offered a scowl. "You’re making a scene, Eliana. Go home." Later, when that same mistress shoved me down the stairs, shattering my knee and my dance career, Jax stepped over my broken body to comfort her. I overheard him telling his friends, "I’m just breaking her spirit. She needs to learn she’s property, not a partner. Once she’s desperate enough, she’ll be the perfect obedient wife." He thought I was a dog that would always return to its master. He thought he could starve me of affection until I begged for scraps. He was wrong. While he was busy playing protector to his mistress, I wasn't crying in my room. I was packing his ring into a cardboard box. I cancelled my transfer to UCLA and enrolled at NYU instead. By the time Jax realized his "property" was missing, I was already in New York, standing next to a man who looked at me like a queen, not a possession.

Horror Modern Romance

7.0

Marked By The Monster: The Lycan King's Bride

7.0

I stood at the altar, ready to bind my soul to Holden, the man I had loved since we were pups. But the moment his stepsister, Jaidyn, let out a shrill scream, he ripped his hand away from mine. He abandoned me in front of the entire pack, cradling her in his arms and claiming his wolf had chosen her over me. The humiliation didn't end there. When I tried to leave, Holden kidnapped me. He locked a silver collar around my neck, searing my skin and cutting off my connection to the world. He dragged me to a filthy dungeon, ignoring my screams, and began draining my blood to "save" Jaidyn. As my life force faded into the IV bag, I watched Jaidyn smirk behind his back, her "wounds" healing instantly. Holden called me a monster for hurting her, blind to the truth. To him, I was just a weak, latent wolf—a spare blood bag for his mistress. But they made a fatal mistake. They didn't know that the "weakness" inside me was actually a dormant power waiting to explode. And they certainly didn't know that my rejection of Holden had already summoned a new mate. The terrifying Lycan King, Alphons, was coming. And when he arrives, he will burn their world to the ground.

Horror Romance Werewolf

8.1

Project Chimera

8.1

The monsters they created have come home. George Alvarez, a Miami police officer, thought it would be just another patrol. Instead, he's forced into chaos, fighting to protect civilians in a mall overrun by predators not born of nature, while struggling to keep his life long secret. Survival is the only priority. Former Dr. Bridget Carter never intended to unleash hell. Once a rising star in genetic science, she walked away from the illegal experiments that twisted DNA into something unnatural, something alive. Now a quiet mother trying to forget, she finds herself trapped in Miami's crowded Bayside Mall... just as the creatures she once helped design break loose. As bodies fall and exits vanish, Bridget, George, and a small group of strangers, including a fading boxer, a disciplined fighter, and a scientist with dangerous knowledge, must navigate a maze of terror, uncover what went wrong, and stop the creatures before they reach the city beyond. But these aren't mindless beasts. They evolve. They hunt with intent. And they remember the people who made them. "The past never dies, it mutates."

Action Horror Modern Mystery Sci-Fi

8.4

She Carved Into My Face On Anniversary Day

8.4

Melina Valentine's seventh anniversary shatters when her husband forgot the important day. But the nightmare worsens when masked intruders—led by a woman with a distinctive wrist mole—invade her home, carving "BITCH" into her face in a brutal attack.

Horror Modern Mystery

The Hidden Camera Captured Everything

Chapter 5

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