“How?” Ethan asked. “My dad won’t believe us. He thinks you just want to separate them.”
“I don’t need your father to believe me,” I replied. “I need evidence—evidence that neither he nor any judge can ignore.”
Linda leaned back in her chair.
“Commander, what are you thinking?”
“I’m thinking that Chelsea is smart, but not as smart as she thinks. She made a mistake by attacking Ethan that night. She became overconfident. She thought that her word and the fake bruises would be enough, but she left loose ends.”
“Like what?” Linda asked.
“The candlestick. Ethan says she hid it. It has to be somewhere in that house with Chelsea’s fingerprints and probably with Ethan’s blood. That is physical evidence.”
“But we can’t go in to look for it without a warrant,” Linda said.
I smiled slightly.
“No, but Ethan can. Legally, that house is still his home. He has the right to be there and retrieve his things.”
Ethan looked at me with wide eyes.
“You want me to go back?”
“Only for a couple of hours, with a pretext. You say you need your clothes, your school supplies, and while you’re there, you look for the candlestick. But you’re not going alone.”
“What do you mean I’m not?”
I took out my phone and searched for something in an app. Then I showed the screen to Linda.
“Spy cameras. Button-size. They can be sewn into clothing. They transmit a real-time video to a cell phone.”
Linda smiled.
“Commander, you haven’t lost your touch.”
“I never lost it. It was just dormant.”
We spent the rest of the morning planning every detail. Linda would get the spy cameras. I would call Rob to ask him to let Ethan pick up his things. And while Ethan was inside, we would be outside, recording every second.
But there was a risk. If Chelsea suspected anything, she could act. She could hurt Ethan again—or worse.
“Grandma,” Ethan said, reading my concern. “I want to do it. I have to do it. Not just for me—also for Paul, for the other children, for everyone she hurt.”
I looked into his eyes. He was no longer the frightened boy of two nights ago. There was something different in him—determination, courage.
“All right. But we follow my plan to the letter. No improvisations. If you feel you are in danger, you leave immediately. Understood?”
“Understood.”
That afternoon, I called Rob. He answered on the third ring.
“What do you want, Mom?”
“Ethan needs his clothes and school supplies. He’s going to go pick them up tomorrow. I hope there’s no problem.”
There was a long silence.
“Is he going alone?”
“Yes. It’s his house too, isn’t it? Or at least that’s what you used to say.”
“Fine. But tell him to be quick. Chelsea doesn’t want to see him.”
“Don’t worry. It will be very quick.”
I hung up before he could reply.
Linda arrived that night with the cameras. They were so small they looked like normal buttons. We sewed them into Ethan’s shirt—one on the chest and one on the shoulder. From my phone, we could see everything the cameras captured.
“Tomorrow at 3:00 p.m.,” I said. “Chelsea will be home because she doesn’t work Tuesdays. Rob will be at the office. It’s the perfect time.”
Ethan nodded. He seemed calm, but I saw his hands trembling slightly while he ate dinner.
That night, before sleeping, I went into his room. He was lying down, looking at the ceiling.
“Can’t sleep?”
“I’m scared, Grandma,” he admitted. “But not of Chelsea. I’m scared of what I’m going to find. Of confirming that my dad is with a killer.”
I sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his hair.
“Whatever we find tomorrow, we’ll face it together. You’re not alone, Ethan. And you never will be—as long as I’m alive.”
“I love you, Grandma.”
“I love you too, my boy. More than words can say.”
He closed his eyes and eventually fell asleep. I stayed there a little longer, watching him breathe peacefully. I thought about all the dangers he would face the next day, all the things that could go wrong.
But I also thought about something else. That Chelsea had underestimated this family. She had underestimated a brave boy who refused to be another victim. And she had underestimated a grandmother who had hunted criminals all her life.
Tomorrow the serpent would show its fangs. But we already had the antidote.
The next day, Ethan entered that house with the cameras rolling. What we recorded that afternoon chilled our blood, and it gave us the weapon we needed to destroy Chelsea.
It was 2:45 p.m. Ethan was standing in front of the mirror in my living room, checking his shirt. The buttons with the hidden cameras were invisible to the naked eye. I checked for the tenth time that the transmission was working correctly on my phone.
“Clear audio, clear video,” I said. “Are you ready?”
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