Chapter 2 - Shadows on the Lens
The digital clock on the white dresser flashed neon red, marking the exact moment the nightmare escalated. Marcus loosened his grip on Elena’s throat just enough for her to gasp for air, though he kept her pinned against the wall. Elena’s eyes watered, not from the physical pressure, but from the sheer disbelief radiating from her husband. His dark blue button-down shirt was wrinkled at the chest, a physical manifestation of his fraying self-control.
"Let me go, Marcus," Elena choked out, her hands resting weakly against his forearms. "You heard her. It wasn't me. Clara lost her balance."
"Clara said she was pushed," Marcus said, his voice dropping to a dangerous, icy register. He slowly released her, stepping back just far enough to let Elena slide down the wall, clutching the crying baby in pink clothes to her chest. Marcus turned his head upward, his gaze locking onto the white security camera mounted in the upper corner of the room. The tiny red LED light blinked steadily, recording every second of the chaos.
Elena caught her breath, rubbing her bruised neck. "The camera. Check the feed, Marcus. It will prove I was standing by the dresser when Clara tripped. I didn't touch her."
Marcus strode past his wife, his boots clicking sharply against the hardwood floor outside the carpeted nursery. He marched down the hall toward the master study where the central security server was housed. Elena scrambled to her feet, the infant finally quieting into soft hiccups, and hurried after him. The bright, sterile lighting of the hallway seemed to mock the suffocating dread settling in her stomach.
In the study, Marcus slammed his palms onto the mahogany desk, waking the dual monitors from sleep mode. He rapidly punched commands into the keyboard, bringing up the live feed and the archived footage from the past hour. The screen flickered, loading the high-definition recording of the nursery. Both of them stared intently at the glowing rectangle as the timeline slider dragged backward to the moment right before the incident occurred.
The video played smoothly. The room was empty except for Clara, who was humming softly while folding tiny white blankets. Then, a shadow appeared at the doorway. Elena gasped aloud, clutching the baby tighter. On the screen, a figure dressed identically to Elena stepped into the frame, reached out an invisible hand, and shoved Clara hard between the shoulder blades just as she turned toward the crib.
Marcus went completely rigid. He stared at the monitor, his pupils dilated with shock. The figure on the screen turned around to face the camera, lifting her head into the direct line of sight.
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It was Elena. Not the Elena standing behind him in the red top, but an exact, flawless double who looked straight into the lens, smiled coldly, and whispered something to the microphone.
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