Chapter 2: The Phone Under the Sofa
“Marcus, don’t touch that phone.””
Vanessa’s voice was suddenly different.
The trembling had vanished.
So had the tears.
Marcus looked down at the cracked phone in his hand.
The red recording icon was still blinking.
Buddy stood beside the sofa, tail low, staring at the device as if he knew exactly what he had found.
Noah remained frozen near the rug.
One hand covered his cheek.
The other clutched the sleeve of his pajama shirt.
Marcus noticed the faint red mark on his son’s face.
His stomach dropped.
He looked at Vanessa.
“Why shouldn’t I touch it?””
Vanessa swallowed.
“I just mean… it could belong to someone.””
Marcus stared at her.
“You just said you had no idea what it was.””
“I don’t.””
“Then why are you afraid of it?””
“I’m not afraid.””
“You stopped crying the second I picked it up.””
Vanessa's eyes narrowed.
“That’s unfair.””
Marcus didn’t answer.
He pressed the screen.
The recording began again.
Static.
A scrape.
Then Vanessa’s voice.
“Come on. Just a little higher.””
Marcus slowly turned toward her.
The voice continued.
“I don’t want him to see me.””
Vanessa took one step backward.
“No.””
Marcus hit pause.
“What is this?””
“I told you. I don’t know.””
“You’re on it.””
“It sounds like me.””
“It is you.””
Vanessa crossed her arms.
“People can fake recordings.””
Marcus looked at her.
“Who would fake your voice?””
She opened her mouth.
Nothing came out.
Noah whispered from behind him.
“She did it.””
Marcus turned.
“Did what?””
Noah looked at Vanessa.
“The vase.””
Vanessa immediately snapped, “Noah, stop.””
The boy flinched.
Marcus saw it.
That tiny movement.
The instinct to make himself smaller.
The instinct to disappear.
Something inside Marcus shifted.
He crouched in front of his son.
“Look at me.””
Noah slowly lifted his eyes.
“Tell me exactly what happened.””
Vanessa shook her head.
“He’s frightened. He doesn’t know what he’s saying.””
Marcus didn’t look at her.
“Noah.””
The boy's lips trembled.
“I came downstairs.””
“Okay.””
“I was looking for Buddy.””
Marcus nodded.
“What happened next?””
“I heard something.””
“What?””
“Glass moving.””
Marcus frowned.
“What does that mean?””
Noah pointed toward the display cabinet.
“Vanessa took the vase.””
Vanessa laughed once.
It was a strange, nervous sound.
“He’s making this up.””
Noah shook his head.
“She put it on the floor.””
Marcus stared at the broken porcelain.
“Then?””
“She looked at me.””
Noah's fingers tightened around his sleeve.
“She said, ‘You know what happens when your dad gets angry.’”
Vanessa’s face went white.
Marcus slowly stood.
“Did she say that?””
“No.””
The answer came too quickly.
Marcus looked at her.
“No?””
Vanessa shook her head.
“He misunderstood.””
Noah’s eyes filled with tears.
“I didn’t.””
Marcus stepped toward Vanessa.
“What else did you say to him?””
“Nothing.””
The phone suddenly chirped.
A notification appeared.
Marcus looked down.
One new message.
No contact name.
Just a number.
The text read:
*YOU SHOULDN’T HAVE FOUND THAT.*
Marcus's face hardened.
Vanessa stared at the screen.
She looked more frightened than she had since he walked through the door.
Marcus noticed.
“You recognize the number.””
“No.””
“Vanessa.””
“I said no.””
He held the phone closer.
“Then why do you look terrified?””
She shook her head.
“You don’t understand.””
“Then explain it.””
“I can’t.””
“Why?””
“Because—”
She stopped.
Marcus waited.
Vanessa looked toward the windows.
Then the front door.
Then back at him.
“There are things you don’t know about this family.””
Marcus let out a bitter laugh.
“My family?””
“Our family.””
“No. Don’t do that.””
“Do what?””
“Pretend we’re talking about some abstract family problem.””
His voice grew louder.
“My son is on the floor with your handprint on his face—”
“I never touched him!””
Marcus froze.
The room went silent.
Vanessa realized her mistake.
She had been too quick to answer.
Marcus looked at Noah.
Then at the broken vase.
Then at the phone.
He lowered his voice.
“I never said you slapped him.””
Vanessa's face lost all color.
Noah looked between them.
Marcus whispered, “Why did you think I meant that?””
Vanessa stepped backward.
“I’m stressed.””
“No.””
“Marcus—”
“You knew exactly what I was talking about.””
She shook her head.
“I was guessing.””
“You guessed the one thing that happened?””
“I know he gets hurt easily.””
Marcus stared at her.
Then Buddy suddenly barked.
The dog ran beneath the sofa.
Something scraped against the hardwood.
Noah wiped his eyes.
“Buddy?””
Buddy backed out, carrying something else.
A small black charging cable.
Marcus frowned.
“That was under there too?””
Buddy dropped it beside the phone.
Marcus looked around the room.
There was another device missing its cable.
He turned toward the wall.
The socket beside the sofa had a faint blue light blinking from behind the furniture.
He moved the sofa.
A tiny camera was attached beneath the side table.
Marcus stared.
Vanessa gasped.
“No.””
He pulled it free.
The lens was pointed directly at the room.
Directly at the vase.
Directly at Noah.
Marcus looked at Vanessa.
“You recorded us.””
She shook her head.
“That isn’t mine.””
“Then whose is it?””
“I don’t know.””
“You expect me to believe that?””
“Yes.””
“Why?””
“Because I swear to God, Marcus, I didn't put it there.””
He examined the tiny device.
A memory card was inside.
His fingers tightened.
“What did you record?””
Vanessa said nothing.
He turned toward Noah.
“Go upstairs.””
Noah didn’t move.
Marcus softened his voice.
“It’s okay. Go to your room.””
“What about Buddy?””
“Buddy can stay with you.””
Noah nodded.
Buddy followed him.
Marcus waited until their footsteps disappeared upstairs.
Then he faced Vanessa.
“Tell me the truth.””
“I am.””
“No.””
“I am.””
“Then tell me why somebody was recording my house.””
Vanessa folded her arms around herself.
“I don't know.””
Marcus stepped closer.
“Who was messaging this phone?””
“I don't know.””
“Who put the camera there?””
“I don't know.””
“Who told you to break the vase?””
“I didn’t break it.””
He looked at her.
She looked away.
Marcus picked up the phone again.
“Then we're going to let the recording answer.””
He pressed play.
Vanessa's voice filled the room.
“After tonight, he'll finally understand.””
Marcus stared at her.
The recording continued.
“Noah won't be a problem anymore.””
Vanessa rushed forward.
“Turn it off.””
Marcus pulled the phone away.
“Why?””
“Because you don't know what happened before that.””
“Then tell me.””
“I can't.””
The recording played on.
A second voice appeared.
Male.
Low.
Calm.
Marcus froze.
“Is he home?””
Vanessa answered on the recording.
“No. He’ll be gone another hour.””
The man asked:
“And the boy?””
“He’s asleep.””
Marcus looked toward the staircase.
His pulse began hammering.
The voice sounded vaguely familiar.
Not enough to place.
But enough to make the hair on his arms rise.
The recording continued.
“Once the vase is broken, you call Marcus.””
Vanessa whispered, “And then?””
“You cry.””
Marcus slowly looked at her.
The recording answered for her.
“You let him think the boy did it.””
The phone fell from Marcus’s hand.
It landed on the rug.
Vanessa covered her mouth.
Marcus stared at her.
“You planned this.””
She began shaking.
“It isn't what you think.””
“You planned to make me hurt my own son.””
“I never told you to hit him.””
Marcus's voice cracked.
“You made me believe him guilty.””
“I thought you would yell.””
“You knew I might hit him.””
“I thought you would stop yourself.””
Marcus took a step toward her.
Vanessa stepped backward.
“I’m sorry.””
He looked at her as if he had never seen her before.
Then the front doorbell rang.
Once.
Twice.
Three times.
Vanessa went completely still.
Marcus looked toward the door.
“Who’s that?””
She whispered:
“I don’t know.””
The doorbell rang again.
This time, there was pounding.
A man shouted from outside.
“Vanessa!””
Marcus turned sharply.
Vanessa’s eyes widened.
The man shouted again.
“Open the door!””
Marcus looked at the phone.
Then at Vanessa.
“Who is that?””
She said nothing.
The pounding became louder.
Noah's bedroom door opened upstairs.
“Dad?””
Marcus looked up.
“Stay there!””
Buddy began barking furiously.
Vanessa whispered, “Marcus, listen to me.””
He turned.
“Get Noah and go out the back.””
“Why?””
“Because the people outside aren’t here for the vase.””
Another crash shook the front door.
Marcus grabbed the phone.
“Then what are they here for?””
Vanessa looked at Noah standing on the stairs.
Her face crumpled.
May you like
And in a whisper so quiet Marcus almost missed it, she said:
“They're here for him.””
