Chapter 4 - The Confession on Speaker
"Tell them, Liam," I whispered, leaning down just enough so my breath brushed the shell of his reddening ear. "Tell them what you said about me. Tell them how I was driving you insane. Tell them how you barely touch me anymore."
Liam squeezed his eyes shut, his hands clenching into tight fists in his lap. The silence in the room was so dense that the ticking of the grandfather clock in the hallway sounded like a hammer striking an anvil.
"He called me insane," I said, stepping back so everyone at the table could see my face, composed yet burning with a quiet, righteous fury. I looked at Liam’s parents, meeting their horrified gazes head-on. "He complained that I was sending him pictures of our baby. Can you imagine that? A father annoyed by pictures of his newborn daughter. He told his mistress that he couldn't wait to leave me, that he was going to divorce me, and that he would marry her instead."
My mother-in-law pressed her hands to her cheeks, letting out a sharp, choked sob. "Liam... tell me it’s not true. Tell me your wife is lying. Please, son."
Liam kept his head bowed, staring blindly at the white tablecloth. His silence was an admission far more damning than any words could ever be. It was the coward's confession, heavy and undeniable.
My father-in-law slowly stood up, pushing his chair back with a harsh scrape. He towered over his son, his broad shoulders shaking with a mixture of grief and unbridled rage. For forty years, he had worked hard to build a respectable family name, and in less than five minutes, his only son had dragged it through the mud.
"You miserable hypocrite," my father-in-law breathed, his voice trembling with disgust. "You have a wife who stayed home raising your child, pouring her heart into this family, and you treat her like trash? While running around behind her back like a common coward?"
"Dad, I can explain," Liam stammered, finally lifting his head, his eyes wide and desperate. He looked like a cornered rat, searching frantically for a lifeline that no longer existed. "It’s not what it sounds like. Things have been difficult between Elena and me since the baby was born. We drifted apart. I was lonely, and—"
"Lonely?" I interrupted, my voice sharp enough to cut glass. I walked back around the table and tossed my phone down onto the center of the linen cloth, right beside the half-empty bowl of mashed potatoes. The screen lit up instantly, displaying a digital audio file icon. "Is that what you call it, Liam? Loneliness? Is that why you had a brand-new passcode on your phone? Is that why you sprayed cologne before every 'late meeting'?"
Liam stared at the phone as if it were a venomous snake coiled up among the dinner plates.
"Do you want me to press play?" I asked, raising an eyebrow. "I saved the recording. Not just of that call, but the backup files I downloaded from your cloud service while you were asleep on Wednesday night. Every text message. Every hotel receipt. Every single sweet little love note you sent to your little girlfriend from accounting."
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The color drained completely from Liam’s face. He lunged forward, trying to grab the phone, but my father was faster. My father’s heavy hand shot out, grabbing Liam by the collar of his shirt and yanking him backward with enough force to slam him hard against the back of his chair.
"Don't you dare touch that phone," my father warned, his voice dangerously low. "You sit there and you take your medicine like a man, or so help me God, I will tear you apart right here at this table."
