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 7

Aurelia POV:

Britni' s whimper cut through Chandler' s furious rebuttal. He didn' t even register my words. His attention, as always, snapped to her, the damsel in distress. The phone line crackled with his hurried murmurs of reassurance to Britni, then a sharp, "I'm coming, darling!" He hung up without another word to me.

Just before he clicked off, I heard a new voice in the background, a man's, asking, "Sir, the package for Ms. Reese, is it ready?"

"Yes, yes, send it over," Chandler barked, his voice distant. "And send the matching one to Britni's room. Aurelia's just being dramatic. She'll get over it. She always does." His voice was laced with a dismissive arrogance. "She's easily pleased."

Easily pleased. He thought a gift would smooth everything over. He thought I was still that naïve girl who clung to his every word.

I was staring at the Twitter feed, the venomous comments, the doctored photos. A new video popped up. Britni, in a hospital bed, looking pale but angelic. Chandler was gently tucking a blanket around her, his face etched with concern. A reporter's voice cut in.

"Britni, there are allegations that Aurelia Reese, Mr. Roberson's former partner, pushed you down a flight of stairs. Do you have anything to say?"

Britni managed a weak, brave smile. "Oh, Aurelia… she's just a little bit… emotional right now. Chandler is such an amazing man, and I think… I think she just got a bit carried away." She dabbed at her eyes with a tissue. "It was just a misunderstanding. I'm sure she didn't mean to hurt me." She looked up at Chandler, a picture of innocent devotion. "He's so wonderful, always helping everyone."

The reporter, already biased, nodded emphatically. "It's truly admirable, Mr. Roberson's dedication. What a terrible misunderstanding."

As Britni spoke, she subtly shifted her hand, and the camera caught it: a delicate silver bracelet shimmering on her wrist. A familiar design. My throat tightened. It was the bracelet Chandler had designed for me, a custom piece, for our fifth wedding anniversary. He'd said it symbolized our intertwined lives, our eternal bond. Now it was on her.

"And that beautiful bracelet, Britni," the reporter gushed. "Is that a gift from Mr. Roberson?"

Britni blushed, a pretty, innocent flush. "Oh, he's so thoughtful. He designed it himself. He said it reminded him of me." She lowered her gaze, feigning shyness. "He's just… so good to me."

The screen blurred. Sarah's voice, booming through the phone, pulled me back to reality. "THAT LYING, MANIPULATIVE-" She swore, a stream of colorful expletives. "She's wearing your bracelet! The one he said was bespoke for you! And he's letting her! That filthy rat!"

I heard a thud. "Sarah? What was that?"

"I just threw the damn gift basket he sent you across the office! A peace offering, he called it! A custom-designed bracelet, just like the one Britni's flaunting! He thinks he can buy you off with matching jewelry for his mistress!" Sarah's voice was shaking with rage. "I'm going to rip his face off."

"No, Sarah, don't," I said, my voice eerily calm. "It's not worth it. Let them dig their own graves."

"But this is outrageous! My team is ready to counter-attack! We have facts, Aurelia, real facts! We can expose them!"

"No," I repeated, firmer this time. "Not yet. Let them revel in their victory. Let them think they've won. And then, when the time is right, you drop the bomb. The full, unedited version."

"Are you sure about this, Aurelia?"

"I've never been more sure."

Just then, my phone chimed. A new tweet. From Chandler.

"Some people just can't handle truth. Others cling to the past. The house is mine, always has been. #MovingOn #NewBeginnings"

And attached? A scan of the deed. In his name. Only him.

My head swam. The house. Our house. The one I'd poured my heart and soul into. The one our families bought for us. He'd put it solely in his name, a "practicality" he'd called it, when we were young and naive. "Just to simplify things, Aurelia. It's for us, always. It's just a piece of paper."

My vision tunneled. Sarah's voice was a distant buzz. "Aurelia? Are you okay? He's implying you're trespassing in your own home!"

"Sarah," I said, my voice steadying, hardening. "Do you remember the Nest security camera I installed in the entryway? The one I put in after that small fire last year?"

"Yes… why?"

"It records everything. Sound and video. Clear as day." A cold, savage satisfaction bloomed in my chest. "It caught everything last night. Britni' s little tumble. His immediate accusation. His slap."

Sarah was silent for a moment, then let out a low whistle. "You're telling me… you have proof?"

"Undeniable proof," I confirmed. "I want you to release the footage. But not yet. Let them bury themselves deeper. Let them think they've won. And then, when the time is right, you drop the bomb. The full, unedited version."

"Are you sure about this, Aurelia?"

"I've never been more sure."

My phone buzzed with a text. Gene.

Gene: Saw the news. Are you okay? Anything I can do?

I looked at his message, then back at the screen, at Chandler's hateful tweet. No. Not yet. I didn't want to drag Gene into this, not when he was just a fresh, clean start. He deserved better.

Aurelia: I'm fine, Gene. Thanks for checking. I've got this.

I closed my phone. My heart was pounding, but it wasn't fear. It was anticipation.

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 7

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