Chapter 18: The Hidden Camera
[Sarah]
The security footage played on Theodore’s laptop, casting an eerie blue glow across his face. I watched myself move through his medical suite during his coma – my hands gliding across his shoulders, down his arms, massaging each muscle with careful attention.
“When were these installed?” My voice sounded strange even to my own ears.
“That’s your first question?” Theodore’s fingers tightened on his wheelchair armrest. “Not why you’re giving full–body massages to an unconscious man?”
Heat rushed to my face. “I was following therapeutic protocols-”
“Were you?” His voice dropped dangerously low as he clicked to another clip. There I was, working my way down his bare back, my fingers tracing each muscle with deliberate care. “Is this what you call… therapy?”
“The doctors recommended massage to prevent muscle atrophy-”
“Did they recommend this level of… thoroughness?” Another click. This time I was humming softly while my hands moved across his chest, down his arms, lingering on each
finger.
Shame and anger warred in my chest. “You had no right to record me.”
“I had every right to protect myself while vulnerable.” His dark eyes held mine with an intensity that made my breath catch. “What I don’t understand is why my wife spent so much time giving such… intimate care when professional nurses were available.”
“Because unlike them, I actually cared!” The words burst out before I could stop them.
Theodore’s expression shifted, something flickering in his eyes that made my pulse race. “Cared enough to take such liberties with an unconscious man?”
“Those weren’t liberties.” I forced myself to maintain eye contact despite the heat in his gaze. “Everything I did was therapeutic. I just… made it personal.”
“Personal.” His voice roughened. “Is that what you call this?”
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Chapter 18 The Hidden Camera
The next clip showed me massaging his face, my movements slow and thorough. Nothing inappropriate, but the intimacy was undeniable. I watched myself lean close, adjusting his position with gentle hands.
“Stop. I couldn’t bear to see more. “Just… stop.”
There are hours of footage, Sarah.” Theodore’s voice was dangerously soft. “Hours of you talking to me, touching me, treating my unconscious body like your personal confession booth. Sharing your hopes, your fears… your dreams.”
My stomach lurched. The twins fluttered, a reminder of secrets still kept. “Who else has seen these?
“Only me. His jaw tightened. “Mother had them installed for security, I discovered them today.
“Delete them.” I meant it to sound commanding, but it came out more like a plea.
“Why?” He wheeled closer, his presence overwhelming. “Afraid of what else I might find?”
“Afraid of having my privacy violated further.” I stood, hands shaking. “Those moments weren’t meant for anyone else.”
Theodore moved even closer, close enough that I could smell his expensive cologne. “Weren’t they? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you took every opportunity to put your hands on me.“@
“How dare you.” The words came out in a whisper. “I spent three months caring for you, worrying about you, doing everything I could to help you recover. And you dare accuse me of taking advantage?”
“Then explain.” His voice roughened. “Explain why my wife spent hours massaging every inch of my body while whispering her secrets to me. Explain why you chose to handle such… intimate care personally.”
I couldn’t. Not without revealing too much. Not without admitting that somewhere between arranged marriage and devoted caregiver, something had shifted.
“Delete the footage.” I moved toward the door, desperate to escape his penetrating gaze.
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“Sarah.” His voice stopped me, sending shivers down my spine. “Why did you really agree to this marriage?”
The twins fluttered again, as if sensing my distress. I rested one hand on the doorframe, not turning around. “You know why. The arrangement benefited us both.”
“Is that all it was? An arrangement?”
Rain pelted against the windows, filling the charged silence between us. I thought of his unconscious form under my hands, of all the secrets I’d whispered to him, of the way my touch had lingered longer than necessary.
“Yes,” I lied. “That’s all.”
1 fled to my suite, where Mrs. Thompson waited with ginger tea and knowing eyes. She didn’t comment on my flushed face or trembling hands.
“The security system was Mrs. Pierce’s idea,” she said quietly. “After the accident, she was terrified of losing him again.”
“She should have told me.”
“Would it have changed how you cared for him?”
The question hung in the air as I sipped my tea, one hand resting protectively over my stomach. Would I have been more guarded? Less tender in my ministrations? Would I have let someone else handle his care, someone who wouldn’t have poured their heart out
to him in the darkness?
“No,” I admitted finally. “It wouldn’t have changed anything.”
Mrs. Thompson’s knowing smile held decades of wisdom. “Then perhaps that’s what really frightens him.”
Later, in the private elevator, I ran into Theodore heading to a late meeting. His cologne filled the enclosed space, making my pulse race despite my lingering anger. We stood in tense silence, electricity crackling in the air between us.
Just before the doors opened, he spoke without looking at me. “The footage has been
deleted.”
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–
Relief warred with something else regret, perhaps, that the only record of those intimate moments was gone. “Thank you.”
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Does he even know what it means for someone to just care for a stranger? For them to take time to not make them feel alone, to be supportive in their most vulnerable moments? He sure…
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