Almost.
Because he still didn’t understand.
He thought the important part was who I called.
Not what he did.
Not what they did.
Not the fact that they had spent days treating a pregnant woman like a prisoner in her own home.
“I didn’t call anyone,” I whispered.
My voice was weak.
But it was enough.
His eyes narrowed.
“Then how?”
I looked at the dirt beside my shoulder.
“The phone.”
His expression went completely blank.
For a second, nobody moved.
Then Mara whispered:
“You recorded us?”
Nobody answered.
Because she already knew.
Her face went pale.
“You recorded everything?”
My husband looked at her.
And something changed.
Because suddenly, he wasn’t angry at me anymore.
He was angry at them.
At the fact that they had been caught.
“You said nobody would know,” he snapped.
Mara stared at him.
“What?”
“You said the neighbors wouldn’t hear.”
