When he died and left me the house, I had moved his equipment into the home Derek and I shared, and linked it to the same encrypted cloud server my father had set up, because it made me feel, in a way I could not explain, like he was still watching over the place.

Derek knew there were cameras.

He had lived alongside them for months.

What he never knew was how they were configured — that every second they captured went, instantly, somewhere he could not reach and could not erase.

My father set that system up.

And before he died, patiently, at his kitchen table, he had taught me exactly how to use it.

I do not think he ever imagined it would one day record his own daughter being thrown into a boiling pot by her husband.