Clarabell's Mom POV
I was in my room, waiting for Clarabell. My mind kept drifting back to the video recording.
Who could have possibly gotten it and sent it? How did the person manage to get so close to her, into the house, to record such intimate moments?
My thoughts swirled, fueling my frustration and concern. The silence in my room seemed oppressive, punctuated only by the faint ticking of the clock.
Suddenly, my door squeaked open.
It was Clarabell.
Her eyes looked haunted, her face pale. The tension in her body was palpable.
"Hey," she whispered, her voice barely audible.
I rose from the bed, my movements slow, deliberate. My voice was low and even but my eyes flashed with anger as I spoke.
"I'm beyond disappointed, Clarabelle. Betrayed. Devastated. You, of all people, knew
