Chapter 2 - THE VIDEO
Travis recovered first.
Barely.
“This is ridiculous.”
Logan did not move.
Diane came around the dessert table.
“Sit down.”
“No.”
Megan stepped between them before her mother could reach him.
“Don't.”
Diane stared.
“He just accused his uncle of having another family in front of forty people.”
“I heard him.”
“Then parent him.”
Megan's face hardened.
“I am.”
Vanessa turned toward Travis.
“Tell me what he's talking about.”
Travis set down his glass.
“He's fifteen.”
“That isn't an answer.”
“He saw something and misunderstood it.”
Logan laughed once.
Megan looked at him.
“What did you see?”
His anger shifted when he looked at her.
For a second he was a kid again.
“I didn't want to tell you like this.”
“Tell me what you know.”
Travis moved toward them.
“Give me your phone.”
Megan turned.
“No.”
“This involves me.”
“It involves my son.”
“I need to see what he has.”
Logan reached into his pocket anyway.
Travis took another step.
Megan blocked him.
“Back up.”
He stared at his sister.
“Megan.”
“You look terrified.”
That stopped him.
Vanessa's voice came from behind him.
“Show me.”
Logan unlocked his phone.
Megan kept it in his hands.
No grabbing.
No crowd gathering around a child because adults had created a disaster.
“Everyone else leaves.”
Diane stared at her.
“This is my son's house.”
“Then your son can ask them to leave.”
Travis said nothing.
Vanessa did.
“Everybody out.”
One cousin protested softly.
Vanessa turned.
“Now.”
Within ten minutes, most relatives had moved outside or into cars.
A few immediate family members remained in the front sitting room.
Megan.
Logan.
Diane.
Vanessa.
Travis.
And Vanessa's sister Claire, who had stopped pretending to organize gifts and was now sitting silently near the windows.
Logan opened a video.
“Where did you get this?”
Megan asked.
“Three weeks ago.”
“Where?”
“Northwood Middle School.”
Travis closed his eyes.
Vanessa saw it.
“So you know what he's about to show me.”
Travis answered:
“Yes.”
Logan pressed play.
The video was shaky.
Filmed from the far side of a school auditorium.
Logan's own school jazz band had been performing at a district arts night hosted by Northwood.
In the video, Travis stood near the stage.
Not alone.
A woman about their age stood beside him.
Dark blond hair.
Blue coat.
A little girl, maybe eight, came running down the aisle.
She jumped straight into Travis's arms.
The sound was faint.
Still clear enough.
“Dad!”
Nobody in the sitting room moved.
On screen, Travis hugged her.
Not a polite family-friend hug.
He lifted her.
Kissed her hair.
The woman smiled.
Then Travis leaned over and kissed the woman on the cheek.
Vanessa whispered:
“Who is that?”
Travis did not answer.
Logan scrubbed forward.
Different clip.
Same night.
The woman said something.
The little girl pulled Travis by the hand.
Then the phone microphone caught her voice.
“Dad, Mom saved your seat.”
Vanessa looked at her husband.
Her face had gone white.
Travis rubbed both hands over his face.
“It's not what this looks like.”
Logan stared at him.
“What exactly does it look like to you?”
“Logan.”
Megan gave him one warning look.
He stopped.
Vanessa did not.
“What is the girl's name?”
Travis said nothing.
Vanessa stepped closer.
“What is her name?”
“Emma.”
The room went silent again.
“And the woman?”
Travis's voice dropped.
“Rachel.”
Vanessa's hand moved protectively over her stomach.
“How old is Emma?”
Travis closed his eyes.
“Eight.”
Vanessa did the math.
Everyone did.
She and Travis had been married eleven years.
Then she asked the only question that mattered next.
“Is she yours?”
May you like
Travis looked at Diane before answering.
That was the moment Megan realized her mother already knew something.
