Almost involuntarily, the woman followed his gaze toward the corner of the living room.

Mounted above a tall wooden cabinet was a small black security camera.

Its lens faced directly toward the sofa.

Toward the coffee table.

Toward the exact spot where the woman claimed Walter had attacked her.

A tiny red indicator light began to blink.

Damon's anger faltered.

Evelyn slowly turned toward the camera.

The woman in yellow took a sudden step backward.

“No,” she whispered.

Walter lowered his hand.

“You were so busy making sure everyone heard your story,” he said, “that you forgot one very important thing.”

He paused, letting the silence tighten around them.

“This house remembers everything.”

Damon stared at the camera, then turned toward the woman beside him.

“What does he mean?”

She shook her head frantically.

“I don't know! He's trying to scare us!”

Walter's expression never changed.

“Then you won't mind watching the recording.”

The woman's face went completely pale.

And just as Damon reached for the security system's control panel, a notification sounded from the cabinet below the camera.

RECORDING SAVED — MOTION EVENT DETECTED.

Evelyn looked at her father.

Walter gave her a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Then he turned toward Damon.

“Before you throw me out of your house,” he said, “you might want to see who actually started this.”

The screen flickered on.

And the first image it revealed made Damon take a step backward.

THE 78-YEAR-OLD MAN THEY ACCUSED… BUT THE CAMERA SAW EVERYTHING

Part 2: The Recording That Exposed Her

Damon stood frozen in front of the security monitor, his scarred forehead tightening as the footage began to load. The woman in the yellow blouse, who had been sobbing moments earlier, suddenly reached for his arm.

“Damon, don't watch that!” she blurted out.

He turned toward her slowly.

“Why?”

She blinked, caught off guard by the question.

“Because he's trying to manipulate you! He's an old man who knows exactly how to make people feel sorry for him!”

Walter Hayes stood beside the sofa, his hands resting calmly on the head of his walking cane.