Chapter 2: The Red Light
Eventually, she crawled to the bathroom.
Gero had renovated it the previous year with marble counters, heated floors, a rain shower, and a bathtub deep enough for a woman to drown in grief. Beate climbed into it fully clothed. Maternity dress. Cardigan. Shoes.
She turned on the water cold.
Not because cold would help.
Because some broken part of her believed warmth had to be earned.
Water soaked her clothes, pooled around her, and slowly turned pink.
Then red.
Her phone sat on the shelf three meters away.
It might as well have been across the country.
She stared at it until her vision blurred.
Mama.
Papa.
Julia.
Her finger hovered over Papa.
Oberstleutnant Thomas Brand.
Retired Bundeswehr. Thirty years of service. Decorated officer. The strongest man she had ever known. The man who had taught her to ride a bicycle, check a tire, tie her shoes, and never accept fear as normal.
Papa would come.
Papa would burn the world down.
But Gero’s voice lived inside her skull.
If you tell anyone, I’ll make sure they know what kind of wife you are. Your father will be ashamed of you.
Her finger moved away.
She locked the phone.
Unlocked it.
Locked it again.
The baby kicked.
Hard.
Beate pressed both hands to her belly.
“I know,” she whispered. “I know we have to do something.”
That was when she saw the red light.
Small.
Blinking.
In the corner of the ceiling.
The nursery camera.
They did not have the baby yet, but Gero had insisted on installing cameras early. “For safety,” he had said. “So we can watch the baby from our phones.”
Beate stared.
The camera faced the bedroom.
The camera had seen everything.
Her heart began pounding so hard she almost became sick.
She climbed out of the tub, water streaming from her clothes, and grabbed her phone with numb fingers. The nanny-cam app opened after three wrong attempts at the password.
There it was.
Timestamped.
Saved to the cloud.
Gero standing over her.
The belt rising.
Falling.
Again.
Again.
Again.
Her body curling smaller.
His face cold and precise.
For the first time, Beate saw herself from outside her own fear.
This is real.
I am not exaggerating.
I am not crazy.
This happened.
Her fingers moved before courage could disappear. She sent the video to her private email. Then her old university account. Then a school account she barely remembered having. Three backups. Three places Gero could not erase at once.
Then she called her gynecologist.
“Dr. Richter’s office,” a receptionist answered. “How may I help you?”
Beate’s voice broke. “I need to see Dr. Richter tomorrow. Please.”
“Is this a routine pregnancy check?”
Beate closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
May you like
The lie came easily.
She had become very good at lying.
