I tore open the package.
Inside were three small, sleek cameras, along with some cables and accessories.
Because Mom tightly controlled my allowance, my budget was limited.
High-definition night-vision cameras were especially expensive, but I gritted my teeth and bought three anyway.
Mom had taken Ze to the nearby park after dinner, while Dad and Kevin went to the neighborhood supermarket to buy daily necessities.
I sat with the instruction manual, studying the dense pages of technical parameters and installation steps.
I forced myself to be patient, afraid of making even the smallest mistake.
The moon was faint, the stars sparse.
The house was silent, except for the dim glow of my desk lamp.
I crept out of my room and tiptoed downstairs, carefully installing the first camera in a corner of the living room.
The spot offered a wide field of view, capturing most of the space.
Next, I placed a second, even more discreet camera near the entrance to Mom’s bedroom.
It was tiny, disguised as an ordinary decorative item nearly invisible.
Finally, I mounted the third camera near the air vent in the guest room where Kevin stayed.
I connected the power, adjusted the angle, and completed the setup with painstaking care, my nerves taut with tension.
My heart pounded like a drum.
It felt like a covert operation.
Sweat dampened my palms, but I didn’t dare slow down.
Once finished, I returned to my room and immediately opened the monitoring app on my phone.
The screen lit up with live feeds from the living room, Mom’s bedroom, and the guest room.
Though it was late and the lighting was poor, the night vision clearly showed the furniture and layout.
I stared at the screen, as if I now had eyes that could see through walls able to witness everything happening in the house.
The empty living room, the quiet bedroom my emotions swirled.
On one hand, I felt a flicker of pride.
I finally had a way to monitor Kevin’s movements, to protect Mom.
On the other hand, guilt gnawed at me.
I felt like a thief, sneaking into my family’s private moments.
But those conflicting feelings were quickly drowned out by my deep distrust and fear of Kevin.
For Mom’s sake, to stop him from crossing any lines, I had to do this.
… Tomorrow was Monday a new week about to begin.
Morning sunlight filtered through thin clouds, spilling into our cozy home, as if urging us to start the day.
My brother and I woke up early.
After a quick wash, we began packing our school bags.
Mom was already busy.
She had put on her elegant black dancewear, a tight, elastic fabric that clung to her like a second skin, outlining every seductive curve.
The neckline plunged deeply, revealing a deep valley between her full, round breasts.
The soft mounds were lifted high, trembling slightly with each breath.
The pink tips of her nipples peeked through the thin fabric, faintly visible, as if inviting someone to taste their sweetness.
The snug material accentuated her waist, making it look impossibly slender so delicate it seemed a single squeeze could break it.
Below, her plump, round hips were tightly wrapped, forming a perfect peach-like shape.
Every curve pulsed with elasticity and allure, as if a light tap would send ripples through her flesh.
The sleeves were three-quarter length, hugging her arms and exposing a smooth stretch of forearm.
Her wrists were slender, her bones delicate.
But the most captivating sight was her legs encased in sheer black stockings.
The ultra-thin nylon clung tightly to her long, straight limbs, adding a hazy layer of sensuality.
Under the light, the stockings shimmered like flowing black liquid.
They dug deeply into the top of her thighs, leaving a pronounced crease that emphasized their fullness and allure.
Her calves were sleek and toned, her ankles slender, forming a perfect arc.
On her feet were black strappy high-heeled sandals, the stiletto heels towering at ten centimeters.
They elongated her legs, making her appear even taller and more seductive.
Her toes, painted a vivid red, were plump and round like tempting cherries, begging to be devoured.
The stockings hugged her instep tightly, even revealing the faint blue veins beneath.
Her toes were squeezed into the narrow sandals, making them look even daintier.
Her arches arched high, forming a tantalizing curve.
Her heels were smooth and flawless, so pale they seemed to glow.
One could easily imagine that when she lifted her foot, the sole would flush a soft pink from the pressure, her toes curling tightly together from the strain adorably sensual.
One could even picture the moment she returned to her studio and slipped off those heels her toes slowly unfurling, revealing their soft, plump flesh, the soles flushed from hours of confinement, radiating warmth.
As she moved, the click of her heels against the floor rang out like an aphrodisiac beat, stirring the senses.
The dancewear clung to her every motion, revealing every curve.
When she raised her arms, the fabric pulled up slightly, exposing a strip of white waist and the soft skin under her arms, tiny downy hairs barely visible.
When she bent over, her full breasts nearly spilled out of the neckline.
On her tiptoes, her leg muscles tensed, the black stockings making her legs look even longer, even more seductive.
Every breath, every movement, radiated the irresistible charm of a beautiful married woman her graceful lines like those of an elegant swan, every gesture dripping with allure.
She stood before the mirror, carefully twisting her long hair into a neat bun.
Her dark, glossy strands danced between her fingers, finally secured into a tight chignon that revealed her smooth forehead and delicate features.
Her profile was exquisite high cheekbones, a straight nose, a soft jawline, a long, graceful neck like a finely carved sculpture.
Still unsatisfied, she pulled out a small makeup case and began refining her brows.
Her almond-shaped eyes, glistening like wet jade, sparkled with seductive light.
With careful precision, she applied red lipstick, the vibrant color contrasting beautifully with her pale skin, enhancing her sultry beauty.
Her expression was focused, almost reverent, as if performing a sacred ritual.
Finally, she slipped on a light jacket and spritzed a bit of perfume.
A soft, intoxicating fragrance filled the air the unique scent of a mature, alluring woman.
“Ready yet, Rui, Ze?
Mom’s taking you to school!” Her voice was warm, gently urging.
“Almost, Mom!” I called back.