My Brother-in-Law’s Hidden Camera

The air hung thick and heavy after the storm, the humidity clinging to the skin. Dressed only in a silk robe, 24-year-old Isabella Laurent entered the bedroom and knelt beside the bed, tending gently to her comatose husband.

She and Ethan Roland had been married for only a short time before the car accident that left him like this. Three long years had passed.

Sweat glistened on her swan-like neck, tracing a path downward beneath the thin fabric of her robe.

Having what felt like a living corpse lying beside her only magnified the emptiness inside.

In the deep silence of the night, her lonely body ached like dry, cracked earth.

She stared at her husband's motionless body, a flicker of raw hatred flashing in her eyes. She slapped his cheek sharply. "You cruel, heartless man! You might as well be dead!"

Just then, a key turned in the front door lock. Isabella knew it was Vincent Roland, her husband's older brother, coming home.

Vincent, 48, owned a chain of hotels. A fitness enthusiast, he kept himself strong and vigorous even as he approached fifty.

His wife had passed away years ago, and with Ethan incapacitated, Vincent had moved into the villa to help care for his brother and share the burden with Isabella.

For privacy, Vincent stayed on the second floor, while she and Ethan lived on the first.

She had quit her job as a flight attendant to become a full-time caretaker. Now, after three years, she had finally worked up the nerve. Tonight, she planned to ask Vincent for a divorce—to take her freedom back.

She rushed out of the bedroom but froze. Vincent was holding several neatly wrapped packages. She couldn't hide her surprise.

"What's all that?"

Vincent set them down on the coffee table. His dark, intense eyes met hers, and her heart skipped.

She came from a good family. Before marriage, she'd been a flight attendant and had known Vincent for a while through his frequent business travels. But she was a married woman.

She never dared cross that line. Still, part of her resented him. I'm just a vulnerable woman… couldn't you have made a move?

"Nothing important… just some daily essentials," he said.

Flustered, she grabbed the packages. She completely forgot about bringing up the divorce. Instead, she hurried back into the bedroom and closed the door.

Inside were feminine products. She couldn't bear the thought of Vincent seeing them.

...

The night was pitch black, speckled with stars.

By 2 a.m., Isabella was tossing and turning, overwhelmed by the heat. She turned the AC down to 60 degrees.

She woke and looked at her unresponsive husband. Tears of self-pity welled in her eyes.

The world was asleep, but turmoil raged inside her.

Feeling desperate, she reached into the bottom drawer of the nightstand and pulled out what she'd bought earlier. She switched it on.

Isabella's eyes fluttered shut. Soft moans escaped her lips, shattering the resolve she'd clung to for three years.

Suddenly, the door opened quietly. A figure slipped inside.

"Isabella? Are you asleep?"

Her heart jumped. She quickly tried to compose herself.

The man's voice was gentle. He came to her bedside and sat down. His hand slid beneath her skirt…

Isabella knew it was Vincent.

Her breathing grew ragged. Her heart pounded so hard she thought it might burst.

She stayed silent, waiting. Her hands clenched the sheets, nearly tearing the fabric.

She never imagined Vincent would come into her room in the middle of the night. Right in front of her comatose husband, he boldly took possession of her body.

Shame washed over her. Yet, her starved body seemed to awaken something new. A paradise untouched for three years welcomed a new master…

"Ah!"