Chapter 2

Finding that camera was a complete, spine-chilling accident.

It was Lincoln High School’s annual Parent Volunteer Day. As a parent volunteer, I was assigned to deep-clean the hidden corners of the academic building.

When I walked into the girls' restroom at the end of the third floor, I caught the faint, chemical scent of cheap air freshener.

I looked up. My eyes fell on the ventilation grate in the very last stall.

At the edge of the vent's metal slats, there was a tiny, highly unnatural black bump.

If I hadn't been standing on the edge of the toilet seat to wipe the upper wall, it would have been impossible to spot from below.

My heart skipped a beat. A cold, sickening feeling crawled up my spine like a venomous snake.

I reached out and pried off the tiny black plastic cover.

Click.

A micro-camera, barely the size of a fingernail, popped out.

Attached to the back of it was a wireless transmitter card, blinking with a faint, mocking red light.

At that moment, the blood in my veins froze.

This was the girls' restroom. This was where Chloe came every single day.

I gripped the warm camera so hard that my fingernails dug deep into my palms.

I didn't make a scene. Instead, I immediately slipped out of the school under the pretense of running an errand and drove straight to a nearby computer repair shop.

"Extract everything from this memory card. Now. Please," I told the technician. My voice was shaking violently.

Seeing how pale I was, the shop owner didn't ask questions. He quickly plugged the card into his reader.

As the folder loaded, rows upon rows of video files flooded the screen. Sorted by date, there were hundreds of them.

With trembling hands, I clicked on the most recent video.

The camera shook a bit—clearly, someone was adjusting the angle during installation.

Then, a face covered in acne, wearing a disgusting, smug grin, filled the screen.

I knew him.

Stephen Howard.

The untouchable golden boy of the elite class, son of the school board trustee, Victor Howard. He was also Chloe’s classmate.

The video continued, angling directly toward the toilet.

What came next made my stomach churn.

Dozens of girls in high school uniforms, completely unaware, were recorded in their most private moments.

And then, I saw Chloe.

She was looking down, reciting her biology notes, completely oblivious to the demonic eyes watching her from above.

"My God... this is a major felony! Should we call the cops?" the shop owner gasped, his face turning pale.

"Make two backup copies of everything on a flash drive. Give me the original card," I said, inhaling deeply to suppress the blinding rage threatening to consume my sanity.

I couldn't just go to the police yet.

The Howard family practically owned this city. If I just handed the evidence over to the local precinct, they would easily pull strings to bury it, or worse, turn it against us.

I had to go to the school first and see where they stood.

Holding the flash drive tightly, I ran back out into the bright, blinding sunlight.

The war had just begun.