Chapter 8 - The Red Eye
The camera. The red light. It was a heartbeat of truth in a room full of manufactured shadows. Margaret’s gaze followed Emily’s eyes, and for a split second, the older woman remained oblivious. Then, she looked up.
The effect was instantaneous. The blood seemed to drain from Margaret’s face, leaving it the color of parchment. Her composure, so meticulously maintained, fractured into a thousand jagged pieces. She stiffened, her breath catching in her throat, her eyes widening until the whites were visible all around the iris.
It was a moment of pure, visceral horror. The predator had realized she was being watched by an unblinking, unfeeling, and utterly objective observer. There was no way to gaslight a lens. There was no way to perform for a piece of silicon and wire. The narrative was dead. The truth was locked, saved, and indisputable. Margaret froze, the air leaving her lungs in a hollow wheeze.
