“Set up a hidden camera in his room,” she said. “He’s not dying.”
Confused, I stared at her. “What are you talking about? He has weeks to live.”
She leaned closer. “Trust me. You deserve to know the truth.” Without another word, she left.
Her words haunted me. Torn between doubt and desperation, I set up a small hidden camera in Eric’s room while he was out for a scan. I didn’t know what I expected to find.
That evening, I nervously played the footage. At first, everything was normal. Eric lay still in his bed, pale and weak. Then, at exactly 9 PM, the door creaked open.
A woman entered—stunning, confident, and dressed in a sleek leather coat. Her heels clicked against the floor. To my shock, Eric jumped out of bed, effortlessly agile.
My heart raced as they embraced, laughing, before she kissed him passionately. Betrayal burned through me as I watched the nightmare unfold.
