Chloe, Mark's younger daughter, stepped into the living room. Her jaw was set, and her eyes burned with cold anger. She held a black smartphone firmly in her hand, the screen glowing brightly against the ambient light of the room.
Mark: Chloe, stay out of this! Your sister almost let Maya fall down the stairs!
Chloe: I said, look at the screen, Dad. Right now.
Brenda: Chloe, sweetie, this is a family emergency. Sarah needs help, she's unstable—
Chloe: Don't you dare call me sweetie. And don't step another inch toward that front door.
Mark frowned, taking a breath to regain his composure. He looked between Chloe's stony face and Sarah, who was still kneeling on the floor, cradling the baby.
Mark: What are you talking about, Chloe? I saw Brenda holding the stroller handles at the top of the stairs!
Chloe: You saw what Brenda wanted you to see. Look at the wall TV. I just cast my phone screen to it.
Mark turned his head toward the large flat-screen television mounted above the brick fireplace. A sharp electronic chime sounded as the smartphone display mirrored onto the big screen. High-definition security footage filled the display, complete with a timestamp from three minutes prior.
Brenda: Mark, we don't need to watch some silly video! The baby needs to be checked by a doctor! Let me hold her!
Chloe: Sit down, Brenda. Touch that baby and I'll call the police myself.
Mark: Chloe, what is on this tape?
Chloe: The truth about your sweet fiancée and her dirty games.
The video began to play. The camera view was high up, looking down the long entry hallway that led directly to the staircase. In the video, Sarah was walking toward the kitchen, holding a baby bottle. The stroller was parked safely against the flat hallway wall, far away from the stairs, with its footbrake visibly locked in place.
Mark: Wait... Sarah wasn't even touching the stroller?
Chloe: Keep watching, Dad. Don't blink.
On the screen, Brenda appeared in the frame. She looked around nervously, checking the front windows to see if Mark's car was pulling into the driveway. Seeing no one, she stepped quietly toward the stroller.
Sarah: Look at her hands, Dad! Look what she did!
In the high-definition security footage, Brenda reached down. She didn't grab the stroller to secure it. Instead, her high-heeled shoe kicked the brake pedal upward, unlocking the wheels. Then, with a firm, deliberate push, Brenda shoved the stroller straight toward the top of the carpeted stairs.
Mark: What... what is that?
Chloe: That's your loving fiancée, Dad. She shoved the stroller, waited until Sarah screamed and ran out of the kitchen, and then grabbed the handle right as you walked through the door to make it look like she was the savior.
Brenda: That... that video is fake! It's an AI edit! She manipulated it on her phone!
Chloe: It's the live feed from the smart home security hub you didn't know Dad installed last week. It uploads straight to the cloud server.
Mark stood frozen. His eyes dilated in complete shock and horror. The color drained from his face as the realization hit him like a physical blow. The silence in the living room grew heavy and suffocating.
Mark: You... you pushed my baby granddaughter toward the stairs?
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