After moving into his new house, the previous owner called: « I forgot to unplug the camera, you need to do it… »

The call came late in the afternoon, just as I was parking in front of our new house. « Is this Daniel Brooks? » asked a raspy, elderly voice. « Yes. Who’s calling? » « Uh, the previous owner. Listen, I’m sorry to bother you, but I forgot something. Something serious. » I almost hung up. Then he said it. There was a hidden camera in the living room ceiling.

I forgot to disconnect it from the cloud before the sale. It was recording. I froze completely. He continued: I only realized it today when I accidentally opened the old feed. I didn’t want to see anything, but what I saw, I think you should know. I felt terrible anxiety. What did you see? Silence.

“Don’t ask any questions on the phone,” he said. “And don’t tell your wife. Come alone. I’ll show you everything.” I sat in the car, time seemed to stand still, gazing at the house. Clare had decorated the porch with strings of lights. Inside, her laughter echoed as her mother and sister unpacked more boxes. I went inside. Claire smiled at me from the kitchen.

« Hi, darling, everything alright? » I nodded. « Yes, I’m just going to run a few errands. » I kissed her on the cheek, my heart pounding. As I left the house, I had a bad feeling. As if that call had torn a veil over a life I thought I knew. And whatever that man saw, it wasn’t just a glitch. It was a warning.

The man lived twenty minutes away, in a dilapidated bungalow tucked behind a gas station. When he opened the door, his hands were shaking. “I didn’t want to get involved,” he said, letting me in. “But I’ve lived in this house for thirty years. It deserved better than what I saw.” He led me to a cluttered desk and opened his laptop.

I saved the recording. I don’t keep it. I just thought you had the right to see it. He clicked play. The living room. My living room. The date said it was Tuesday. I’d worked until 7 p.m. that day. Claire came in. Her mother followed. Then her sister Jenna. They opened bottles of wine, then burst out laughing. Claire flopped down on the sofa.

I can’t believe he fell for it. All this talk of a fresh start, like it was his house, his mother added. You’ve done the hardest part, darling. Now we just make sure he’s busy at work while we finalize the transfer. The transfer? I whispered. The video kept playing. Clare pulled out a folder. Power of attorney papers, she said with a smirk. You said he’d never find out.

You were right, Mom. I froze in front of the screen. The man next to me turned down the volume. There’s more, but you get the idea. I couldn’t speak, couldn’t move. Proxy. They weren’t just laughing behind my back. They were eating me alive from the inside while smiling at me. I stood up slowly.

“Send me the complete file,” I said. Every second counted, because now I had a plan and I wouldn’t be fooled again. That same evening, when I got home, everything seemed normal. Clare kissed my cheek and asked if I’d had any milk. Jenna was tidying the garage. Her mother was baking a cake for the neighbors. It was all as if it were real, as if I were the one playing at being the family. I watched them.

Every movement, every forced laugh, every kind word now seemed poisoned. I nodded, I smiled, I played along. Because what they didn’t know was that I had the video. I had the proof. And I wasn’t going to confront them. Not yet. I needed more. So, for the next few days, I played innocent. I feigned fatigue, work, distraction.

I installed microphones in the kitchen, the hallway, and even under the dining table. I plugged a backup connection into the router. I upgraded the initial cloud storage without telling anyone. They were too complacent to notice. And that’s when the real conversation started. Jenna, are you sure he won’t contest it? Claire, he’s pathetic.