Chapter 2: The Truth Under the Roof
Dr. Ellis arrived twenty minutes later.
Anna sat on the sofa wrapped in three blankets, her body still trembling. I knelt beside her, holding one hand between both of mine while the doctor checked her blood pressure.
My mother stood near the fireplace, arms crossed, pretending she was the victim.
“She’s always dramatic,” she said. “Pregnancy makes women emotional.”
Dr. Ellis did not look at her.
Instead, he looked at me.
“Her blood pressure is elevated. She’s exhausted, dehydrated, and under severe stress. At nine months pregnant, this is dangerous.”
The word dangerous landed like a stone in the room.
Anna lowered her eyes.
I felt her hand tighten around mine.
“How long?” I asked softly.
Anna shook her head.
I turned to her. “Please. No more protecting anyone.”
Tears filled her eyes.
Then the truth came out.
Not all at once.
In pieces.
My mother had been waking her up after midnight to clean.
She had thrown away Anna’s prenatal vitamins because she believed they made her “lazy.”
She had hidden food from her.
She had told the staff not to help her.
She had whispered that if Anna complained, she would make sure I thought she was unstable.
My chest tightened with every word.
Claire began crying quietly.
My father sat down like his knees had given out.
My mother laughed once, sharp and cold.
“Lies,” she said.
Anna flinched.
That small movement told me everything.
I stood.
My mother looked at me with the confidence of a woman who still believed blood would save her.
“You are my son,” she said. “You will not humiliate me over some girl who trapped you with a baby.”
The room changed.
Even my father looked at her like he no longer recognized the woman standing there.
I walked to the security panel beside the study door.
My mother’s face paled.
She had forgotten one thing.
Two years earlier, after a burglary in the neighborhood, I had installed cameras in the main hallways, kitchen entrance, and living areas.
Not bedrooms.
Not private spaces.
But enough.
I opened the security archive.
The screen lit up.
There she was.
My mother, night after night, entering the kitchen after midnight.
Anna washing dishes.
Anna wiping floors.
Anna holding her back in pain while my mother stood over her.
Then tonight.
My mother gripping Anna’s hair.
Forcing her toward the sink.
Her voice came through the speakers clearly.
“Your husband is asleep now. Let’s see who protects you.”
No one moved.
My mother’s mouth opened, but no words came out.
I shut off the screen.
May you like
Then I said the words I should have said months ago.
“You are leaving this house tonight.”
