Chapter 5 — The Christmas Video
Chapter 5 — The Christmas Video
The video arrived at 6:42 in the morning.
No warning.
No explanation.
Just a file attached to an anonymous message.
WATCH UNTIL THE END.
I stared at the screen.
James was already awake.
He had been sleeping lightly since the night someone photographed Emma inside our house.
He noticed my expression.
“What is it?”
“I don't know.”
I showed him the message.
He took the phone.
“Don't open it.”
“I need to know.”
“It could be malware.”
“It could also tell us what happened.”
James studied the sender.
Unknown number.
No identifying information.
Then he looked at me.
“We open it on a separate device.”
Twenty minutes later, we were sitting in the study.
The curtains were closed.
Emma was with our sitter downstairs.
James had disconnected the computer from the internet.
The file appeared on the screen.
CHRISTMAS_DINNER_2025.MP4
My stomach tightened.
Someone had recorded the entire evening.
I clicked play.
The first few minutes were harmless.
My mother setting the table.
My father carrying wine.
My uncle laughing.
Lauren arriving late.
Then I appeared on the screen, holding Emma.
The angle was from somewhere near the living room.
I watched myself smile.
I watched my husband come through the front door.
I watched Lauren glance at Emma.
And then I noticed something.
She wasn't annoyed.
She was watching my daughter carefully.
Too carefully.
The video continued.
Dinner began.
People talked.
Emma fussed.
I picked her up.
Lauren rolled her eyes.
Then she walked toward us.
My heart began pounding.
I knew what was coming.
I watched Lauren reach for Emma.
I watched my sister's hand move.
Then—
The slap.
Emma screamed.
I flinched even though I had already lived through it.
James's hand closed around mine.
“Keep watching.”
The video continued.
I heard my own voice.
“What did you just do?”
Then Lauren.
“It was a tap.”
Then my mother.
“She didn't mean anything.”
My father.
“Everyone calm down.”
And then James stood.
“Get out.”
The footage captured everything.
Every word.
Every expression.
Every person who had looked away.
I felt sick.
But James wasn't watching Lauren.
He was watching the background.
“Pause.”
I stopped the video.
“What?”
“Zoom in.”
He pointed toward the hallway.
I enlarged the frame.
There.
A man stood near the coat rack.
Dark jacket.
Tall.
Partially hidden.
I stared.
“Eric.”
James nodded.
“He was there.”
“But how?”
“I don't know.”
The video continued.
Eric disappeared from the hallway.
James paused again.
“Look at your father.”
I watched.
Dad had noticed Eric.
His expression changed.
He looked frightened.
Then he quickly looked away.
“Dad knew he was there.”
“Yes.”
“Why didn't he tell me?”
“Because he was hiding something.”
The video continued.
Lauren sat down.
Eric returned.
He whispered something in her ear.
She nodded.
I leaned closer.
“What did he say?”
The audio was faint.
James increased the volume.
We heard it.
“Tonight.”
Lauren nodded.
Then Eric walked away.
I looked at James.
“Tonight what?”
“We need the original audio.”
We kept watching.
The camera followed Eric.
He walked into the kitchen.
Then stopped beside my mother.
He said something.
My mother looked terrified.
She shook her head.
Eric leaned closer.
My father appeared.
He and Eric exchanged a few words.
Then Dad reached into his pocket.
He gave Eric an envelope.
My heart stopped.
“What is that?”
“I don't know.”
The video showed Eric leaving the kitchen.
He walked toward the front door.
Then stopped.
He turned around.
And looked directly at the camera.
James froze the frame.
Eric was staring into the lens.
He knew he was being recorded.
He smiled.
A cold smile.
Then he walked away.
I felt a chill.
“He knew.”
“Yes.”
“Whoever recorded this…”
“Wasn't hiding from him.”
James rewound.
We watched again.
Eric looked at the camera.
Then smiled.
That meant one thing.
The camera wasn't secret to him.
Someone had wanted him to know.
The next section of the video showed the aftermath.
James telling Lauren to leave.
My mother crying.
My father trying to calm everyone.
I carried Emma upstairs.
The camera followed me for several seconds.
Then the image cut.
A black screen appeared.
A timestamp.
11:37 P.M.
The footage returned.
The house was dark.
Everyone had gone to bed.
Except Lauren.
She was standing in the kitchen.
Alone.
She opened a cabinet.
Removed a small envelope.
Then walked outside.
Eric was waiting.
I looked at James.
“Where did she get that?”
“I don't know.”
They spoke.
The audio was clear enough this time.
Lauren said:
“I did what you asked.”
Eric replied:
“Not enough.”
“I told you I couldn't do more.”
“You already did.”
“I won't hurt her again.”
Eric laughed.
“You don't get to decide that.”
Lauren looked frightened.
“You said nobody would get hurt.”
“I said nobody important.”
I felt sick.
James paused the video.
“That's enough.”
“No.”
I stared at the screen.
“Keep going.”
“You don't have to hear this.”
“Yes, I do.”
He pressed play.
Eric stepped closer to Lauren.
“You understand what happens if Rachel finds out?”
Lauren shook her head.
“I'll tell her.”
“You'll lose everything.”
“I've already lost her.”
“You haven't lost anything yet.”
Eric held out his hand.
Lauren gave him the envelope.
“What's inside?”
“I don't know.”
“Money?”
“Yes.”
“How much?”
“Twenty thousand.”
James looked at me.
“The amount Dad mentioned.”
I nodded.
The video continued.
Eric opened the envelope.
Then he looked at Lauren.
“Where's the rest?”
She stared at him.
“I don't have it.”
“You promised.”
“I told you I couldn't steal more.”
Eric's face hardened.
“You're going to.”
Lauren shook her head.
“No.”
Eric leaned closer.
“You want your secret protected?”
“Yes.”
“Then you do what I tell you.”
Lauren whispered:
“What secret?”
Eric smiled.
“The one your sister doesn't know.”
The screen went black.
I stared at the computer.
My hands were trembling.
“What secret?”
James didn't answer.
“I need to know.”
“We will.”
“What did Lauren steal?”
“We don't know yet.”
“Twenty thousand dollars.”
“Yes.”
“And Eric wanted more.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
James leaned back.
“Because money wasn't the real leverage.”
“What was?”
He looked at me.
“You.”
I frowned.
“What do you mean?”
“Eric wasn't threatening Lauren because of the money.”
“Then why?”
“Because Lauren knew something about you.”
I felt cold.
“Something about me?”
“Yes.”
“What?”
“I don't know.”
The video ended.
But a second file appeared.
WATCH THIS ONE ALONE.
James stared at it.
“No.”
I looked at him.
“What?”
“You're not watching that alone.”
“Why?”
“Because whoever sent these files wants to separate us.”
I nodded.
He opened the second file.
The screen showed a hospital corridor.
I recognized it immediately.
It was the hospital where Emma had been born.
The date was two years earlier.
I watched my mother walk through the corridor.
She was carrying a folder.
She stopped outside a doctor's office.
A man approached her.
Eric.
My mother gave him the folder.
He opened it.
Inside were medical records.
I stared.
“What?”
James leaned closer.
The video continued.
Eric pulled out a document.
My mother shook her head.
He said something.
The audio was faint.
James enhanced it.
“Does she know?”
My mother's voice:
“No.”
“Does Rachel know?”
“No.”
“Good.”
Eric closed the folder.
“What happens if she finds out?”
My mother answered:
“She'll leave.”
“That's what you want?”
“No.”
“Then why hide it?”
My mother began crying.
“Because she'll never forgive us.”
I felt like the room had disappeared.
“Forgive you for what?”
The video continued.
Eric placed a second document in front of her.
My mother signed it.
Then Eric said:
“Then it's done.”
The video ended.
I stared at the blank screen.
“What did she sign?”
James didn't answer.
“James.”
“I don't know.”
“I need to know.”
“We'll find out.”
I stood.
“I want to talk to my mother.”
“Not yet.”
“Why?”
“Because she knows someone is watching.”
“So?”
“So if we confront her now, she can destroy whatever evidence remains.”
I stopped.
He was right.
But that didn't make it easier.
At noon, another message arrived.
You want the truth?
Then an address.
A storage facility across town.
Unit 317.
James immediately contacted the police.
But the sender sent another message.
Come without them.
James stared at it.
“No.”
“I have to go.”
“No.”
“James.”
“This is exactly what they want.”
“What if there's evidence?”
“There will still be evidence tomorrow.”
“What if they move it?”
He looked at me.
“Then we go together.”
We drove there in James's truck.
The police followed several minutes behind.
Unit 317 was unlocked.
Inside was a single cardboard box.
My name was written on it.
RACHEL WALKER
I stared.
James opened it.
Inside were photographs.
Documents.
Bank statements.
Medical records.
And a flash drive.
My hands shook.
“What is this?”
James picked up the first document.
It was an old financial statement.
My father's company.
Large transfers.
Payments to Eric.
More than $300,000 over five years.
I looked at James.
“Dad paid him.”
“Yes.”
“For what?”
We found another document.
A surveillance contract.
My name was listed.
My stomach dropped.
“Me?”
James read it.
“Private monitoring of Rachel Walker.”
“Why would my father have me monitored?”
He kept reading.
“Beginning January 2024.”
“That was before Emma was born.”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
We found the answer in another document.
It was a medical report.
My name.
A date.
A diagnosis.
I stared at the page.
“What is this?”
James read it.
His expression changed.
“Rachel…”
“What?”
He looked at me.
“This isn't about Lauren.”
I felt my heartbeat accelerate.
“Then what is it about?”
James handed me the document.
I read the first line.
And everything inside me went cold.
CONFIDENTIAL MATERNAL HISTORY — RESTRICTED ACCESS
Below it was a sentence I had never seen before.
Patient was advised not to become pregnant due to a hereditary condition.
I looked at James.
“I never had this diagnosis.”
He shook his head.
“Apparently you did.”
“No.”
I stared at the paper.
“I would remember.”
James looked at the date.
“This was before your wedding.”
I felt dizzy.
“My mother knew.”
“Yes.”
“My father knew.”
“Yes.”
“And Eric had my medical records.”
“Yes.”
I couldn't breathe.
Then I found another document.
A signed consent form.
My name was at the bottom.
But the signature wasn't mine.
I stared at it.
“That isn't my signature.”
James took it.
“No.”
“Someone forged it.”
He looked at the date.
Then at me.
“Rachel.”
“What?”
“This was used to authorize a procedure.”
My heart stopped.
“What procedure?”
He looked at me.
“Genetic testing.”
I felt the world tilt.
“Why?”
Before he could answer, footsteps echoed outside the storage unit.
James immediately pulled me behind him.
A shadow moved across the doorway.
Then disappeared.
James reached for his phone.
“Police are coming.”
But the shadow returned.
A man stepped into the doorway.
Eric.
He looked at me.
Then at James.
He smiled.
“You finally found it.”
James stepped forward.
“What did you do to her?”
Eric didn't answer.
He looked at me.
“You really don't remember?”
“Remember what?”
His smile disappeared.
“Your mother was right.”
“About what?”
“You were never supposed to have that baby.”
I felt as if someone had struck me.
James's face hardened.
“What does that mean?”
Eric looked at him.
“Ask her parents.”
Then he turned and ran.
James chased him.
But by the time the police reached the hallway, Eric was gone.
I stood alone inside the storage unit.
My eyes fell on the box.
There was one final document at the bottom.
A birth certificate.
Not Emma's.
Mine.
And beside it was another piece of paper.
A handwritten note.
Rachel was never supposed to know who her biological father was.
I stopped breathing.
My entire life had just become a question.
My mother.
My father.
Eric.
Lauren.
The money.
The surveillance.
The medical records.
And the secret someone had protected for years.
The Christmas video had not answered my questions.
It had created something far worse.
It had shown me that the people I trusted had been hiding pieces of my life long before Lauren ever touched my daughter.
And somewhere in those missing pieces was the reason everyone had been so determined to keep me from looking.
I picked up the note.
At the bottom, someone had written one final sentence:
Ask your mother why she lied about your father.
I stared at the words.
Then I called her.
She answered on the first ring.
“Rachel?”
I swallowed.
“Mom.”
“Yes?”
“Who is my father?”
Silence.
Not surprise.
Not confusion.
Fear.
Pure, unmistakable fear.
Then my mother whispered:
“Where did you find that?”
I closed my eyes.
And suddenly I knew.
She had been waiting for this question for years.
I had finally asked it.
May you like
And whatever answer she gave me next was going to change far more than my relationship with Lauren.
It was going to change who I was.
