In the flickering light of our living room, I held the phone, my heart pounding in my chest, curiosity mixed with a fear I couldn’t quite name. As I powered it on, Lila pointed to a folder labeled “Important.” Inside, I found a cache of photos, videos, and screenshots that my daughter had meticulously collected over the past few days.
“Mom, I saw Aunt Ashley on your computer,” Lila began, her voice steady. “She was typing a lot and talking to Jake. I got worried when they mentioned banks and took pictures just in case.”
I looked at the images, my breath catching with each swipe. There were screenshots of my bank accounts, photos of Ashley and Jake discussing something over my laptop, and even a short video Lila had taken with the camera peeking from behind the couch. It captured Ashley typing furiously as Jake coached her from the side.
