He Planted a Camera to Spy on Me

I discovered a tracker my husband had hidden under the car.

He thought his plan was flawless, but I felt chills to the bone.

My sister-in-law was preparing for pregnancy, seeking medical advice every day with great anxiety.

With a kind smile, I handed her the car keys. This car has enhanced safety features, so you can drive to your check-ups with peace of mind.

She thanked me gratefully, unaware that danger had already quietly begun its journey.

The next day, the sound of police sirens pierced the air.

My mother-in-laws wails were heart-wrenching.

It was only then that he understood the depths of my ruthlessness.

The afternoon sun was a bit blinding, and the fan-shaped spray from the water gun briefly refracted a rainbow. I was bent over, scrubbing the cars body with a soft sponge. This was a white SUV, bought with the bonus from my first major project. Adrian didnt like this car; he found its lines not rugged enough, unworthy of his status as an investment manager. But I loved it C its rounded curves and spacious interior, like a mobile fortress ready to carry me away at any moment.

Water streamed, washing away dirt and sand from the tire grooves. My fingertips accidentally brushed against an edge on the undercarriage. Taped there was something that didnt belong to the car itself. It was a small, rough, square object with a magnetic texture.

My movements paused for a second, my heart suddenly clutched by an invisible hand. I didnt immediately rip it off. I straightened up, turned off the water gun, and silence fell around me, broken only by the dripping water from the cars body. I pulled out my phone, adjusted the angle, and snapped a photo of the small black square. The picture clearly showed its outline, and a faint, blinking indicator light.

Back home, I locked myself in my study and uploaded the photo to my computer. Enlarged, searched. Every word of the results that popped up on the screen was like a cold chisel, carving raw, bleeding holes in my heart. High-precision global positioning system tracker, ultra-long standby, silent operation. So thats it. No wonder when I changed a meeting location with a client last week at the last minute, Adrians call happened to come in just as I walked into that new coffee shop. No wonder he always sent a thoughtful message like Dont rush, drive slowly when I was stuck in traffic and frustrated. I used to be touched by such telepathic synchronicity. Now, the thought alone made my stomach churn with nausea.

I leaned back in my chair, closed my eyes, and tried to steady my breathing. Besides the tracker, there was something else. That scent. For the past month, a faint, sickly sweet smell always wafted from the cars air vents. I thought the AC filter needed changing and even mentioned it to Adrian. How did he respond then? He said it was just the new air freshener being too strong; it would dissipate in a few days. And then there was my own body. A inexplicable fatigue that even eight hours of sleep couldn't alleviate. Recurring skin rashes on my arms and lower legs, an agonizing itch. I thought it was due to the changing season, or too much work stress. Now, all the clues, like venomous snakes, slithered out from dark corners, coiling around me, flicking their tongues.

I didnt touch anything. I turned off the computer and saved the photos on my phone into an encrypted folder. I prepared dinner as usual, rinsing rice, washing vegetables, slicing meat. The knife struck the cutting board with crisp, regular, cold sounds.

The lock turned. Adrian was home. He wore a well-tailored suit, his hair meticulously combed, a gentle smile on his face. He walked over, habitually hugging me from behind, his chin resting on my shoulder. Tired today? he asked. I could smell the mix of tobacco and cologne on him, a scent I once adored, but now only made me want to gag.

I shook my head, my voice as still as stagnant water. Not tired. I turned my head, looking into his eyes, trying to keep my expression natural. Oh, by the way, I said, doesnt the car need servicing? I feel like the AC has been a bit off lately. His eyes flickered, very quickly, almost imperceptibly. Is that so? I just had it checked a while ago. Its probably just a dirty filter. Ill take it to the dealership this weekend. He answered flawlessly, his smile perfect.

Halfway through dinner, my mother-in-law, Olivia Voldemort, called right on cue. Adrian put her on speaker. Nancy, have you seen a doctor yet? Youve been married for three years, and not a peep from your belly. Are you deliberately trying to make the Voldemort family childless? Her sharp, caustic voice pierced through the receiver like steel needles, pricking my eardrums. Our Adrian has a career, he has good looks. Marrying you was the worst luck! Whats a barren hen doing occupying the nest?!

My hand gripping my chopsticks tightened slightly, knuckles white. Adrian immediately frowned, speaking into the phone. Mom, what are you talking about? Nancy is under a lot of pressure too. Were trying.

Trying? Three years of trying and not a damn thing! Im telling you, Adrian, I dont care. If theres no news within this year, youre getting a divorce! I dont want to die and have no face to meet your father! Olivia slammed down the phone.

The dining room fell silent. Adrian sighed, picked up a piece of pork rib, and placed it in my bowl, his tone gentle as if soothing a child. Nancy, dont listen to Mom. Shes just anxious for grandchildren, theres no malice. He added, Look at my sister, Cathy. Shes trying so hard, seeing traditional healers, getting check-ups, all for conception. Lets put in more effort, okay? Every word was comfort, yet every word piled on more pressure. I looked at his hypocritical face, at the calculating flicker in his eyes, and the warmth in my heart cooled inch by inch, until it froze.

This man I had loved for five years, this husband I had shared a bed with for three, was personally weaving a vast web for me. And I was the prey about to be devoured.

No. I wouldn't let him succeed.

It was late, Adrian was sound asleep, his breathing steady and long. I quietly got out of bed, walked to the living room, and picked up his phone. The password was our wedding anniversaryhow ironic. I tapped on a contact with no avatar, labeled S. The chat history wasnt extensive, but every message was shocking.

Has she been suspicious lately?

No, shes very naive.

How are the things working?

Should be soon, shes always complaining about being tired lately.

Just then, a new message popped up at the top of the screen, from S. How are things progressing? If she still cant conceive, itll be easier to explain to your mom, and we can be together sooner.

I clamped my hand over my mouth, preventing a sob from escaping. So, my physical discomfort, my mother-in-laws coercion, his gentle trapeverything was a meticulously planned conspiracy. He didnt want me to not be able to conceive. He wanted me to be proven infertile.

A bone-chilling cold rose from the soles of my feet, spreading instantly through my limbs, freezing me into a temperatureless statue. Fury and hatred churned in my chest like lava, scorching every inch of my reason.

Very well. Adrian Voldemort. You want to play? Ill play to the very end.

The next day, I called my office, my voice hoarse, and requested sick leave. The reason: a severe cold, feeling unwell.

After hanging up, I found gloves and a mask in the storage room, arming myself thoroughly. I needed to reconfirm. Opening the car door, the sickly sweet scent was even clearer than yesterday. I didnt start the car. Instead, I directly disassembled the glove compartment in front of the passenger seat, revealing the AC filter housing inside. The process was more complex than I imagined, but as an architectural designer, I had a natural sensitivity to mechanical structures.

I carefully pulled out the filter. Deep within the filter, near the air vent, I found something. It wasnt a normal car air freshener. It was cleverly disguised as a black plastic part, wedged tightly in a structural crevice. A thin tube connected to it, leading to a modified miniature device that could slowly release liquid. My heart pounded, almost leaping from my throat.

I used tweezers, with extreme caution, to remove the entire device intact. Then, I sealed the device in a plastic bag and cut off a small piece of the liquid-soaked AC filter as a sample. After all that, I called Sarah Thorne. Sarah was my college best friend and the star lawyer at the citys top law firm. When she answered, I simply said, Sarah, somethings happened to me.

Sarah immediately noticed the distress in my voice. Where are you? Dont move, Im coming right away!

Half an hour later, Sarah arrived at my house in a flurry. I placed the tracker and the strange device in front of her. After hearing my story, her usually calm and composed face erupted in fury. Adrian, that animal! Hes slowly poisoning you! This is a crime!

She immediately contacted a highly professional and discreet private testing agency, who promised results within twenty-four hours. During the long, agonizing wait for the results, I didnt allow myself to be idle. I opened my computer and began to sort through all the assets under Adrians and my names.

In three years of marriage, we had jointly invested in several projects, mostly led by him. I checked them one by one, and my heart sank deeper into the abyss. Three financial products, totaling over seven figures, which should have been under our joint account, had vanished. I checked the transaction records: they had been unilaterally transferred by Adrian to an account completely unknown to me, a month ago.

Sarahs call came in, her voice grave. Nancy, I just consulted with my colleagues. We have a terrifying theory. She paused. Adrians goal is likely a combination punch. She continued, her voice grim. Step one: use drugs to ruin your body, making you infertile. Step two: use a tracker to monitor your movements, fabricating evidence of your misconduct. She concluded, her voice cold. Finally, when it comes to divorce, hell make you leave with nothing due to physical issues and marital misconduct.

My mind buzzed. I remembered. Just two months ago, Adrian had subtly tried to get me to sign a property agreement. He said it was just a precaution, in case our feelings changed later, so we could part amicably and without ill will. At the time, I just found it strange and kept putting off signing. Now, it was clear that it was a trap he had laid long ago.

I hung up and immediately put on my coat and went to the bank. The bank statement the ATM spat out was long, like a eulogy. It clearly recorded the path and time of every one of Adrians asset transfers. Undeniable evidence.

I held that stack of cold paper, walking down the street at dusk, the citys neon lights blurring my vision. My phone vibrated. Sis, preparing for pregnancy is so tough. Tomorrow, Im going to the citys best fertility center for a full check-up. I hope for good news. Followed by a praying hands emoji. I looked at the words, at that jarring emoji.

A bold, meticulous, even somewhat insane plan slowly sprouted in my frozen heart. Adrian, you want to see a good show? Then Ill make you watch, with your own eyes, how you personally push your beloved sister into the abyss.