Hidden Desires - Family Secrets-Chapter 257 I might have been deceived by his acting for a lifetime

As I pressed the call button, my palms were already sweating, my heart pounding with an intensity that bordered on unbearable.

I knew there was a good chance her phone would be off, but I couldn’t fathom why.

The few seconds between dialing and the inevitable dead tone felt like a century to me.

"Beep..." To my surprise, Betty’s phone wasn’t off; it actually rang.

I was using a phone provided by the security personnel around me, a phone that dialed out from a hidden number, leaving no trace of its origin.

"Beep..."

"Beep..."

"Beep..."

My anxiety peaked.

It had been three years; was this still Betty’s number?

"Hello... hi..." After three rings, the call connected, and though her voice had changed, worn by time, I immediately recognized it as Betty’s.

It lacked its former melodious charm, replaced by a timbre that spoke of hardships endured.

"Hello... who is this?"

I remained silent, prompting Betty to ask again, her voice now trembling with a mix of fear and anticipation.

My hand shook as I held the phone, my whole body trembling.

Three years felt like a lifetime.

Betty’s voice had changed; had everything else changed too?

"Hello... honey? Is that you? Speak up... who is this?"

After a long pause, Betty’s voice came through again, desperate and choppy, as if on the brink of emotional collapse.

I couldn’t take it anymore and hung up, at a loss for words with Betty.

This situation was unexpected.

I hadn’t thought Betty’s phone would be on in the middle of the night, nor that she hadn’t changed her number, and least of all that she might guess it was me calling.

All these signs suggested she hadn’t fully believed Luna’s words; perhaps she clung to a sliver of hope that I was still alive, maybe even waiting for something.

Her phone was on 24/7, ready to receive my call.

Over these three years, she must have received countless calls from strangers, each time perhaps hoping it was me.

I wondered how many times she had asked strangers on the phone if they were her husband.

This phone was designed to be untraceable, making calls without revealing its number, and it couldn’t be called back, so I didn’t have to worry about Betty trying to reach me.

Three years had changed Betty’s voice significantly, aging her, and from her urgent tone and the way she said "honey," it seemed she hadn’t forgotten me.

I thought I had moved on from Betty, that my heart had been softened by Luna and Kevin, but hearing Betty’s voice made me realize I still deeply loved her.

I didn’t understand why I was still so drawn to her after all the pain she and Michael had caused me, but the heart often defies our attempts to control it.

I looked up at the apartment where I used to live with Betty.

There was no sign of life; the lights were off, the curtains tightly drawn.

I didn’t know if she still lived there.

After a long contemplation, I decided against going upstairs.

Even if I knocked on the door and saw Betty, what could I possibly say?

And deep down, I feared what I might find.

I was terrified of seeing Michael by her side, or worse, a three-year-old child that might shatter all my imagined scenarios.

"Mr. Justin..." Lost in thought beside the car, I was suddenly brought back to reality by the voice of the man in black behind me.

"It’s cold out here; let’s get back in the car," he suggested kindly, an assistant sent by Luna to look after me.

"Let’s head back," I finally decided after much deliberation.

Driving back to the hotel, I felt a rush of impulsiveness.

Returning to my hometown suddenly left me unsure of where to start or how to begin my search.

I had thought about waiting in the car overnight, watching to see if Betty or Michael would emerge from my old apartment in the morning.

But in the end, I lacked the courage, seemingly unprepared to face whatever might come.

Once back at the hotel, I asked my assistant for a laptop.

I pulled out a black USB drive, a device Luna had given me and which I had carefully guarded ever since, even carrying it with me when I returned to my hometown.

I had never dared to see what was inside.

Since I couldn’t face Betty directly, I decided to start here, hoping for some useful clues.

After plugging it into the laptop, I discovered it was a security dongle.

The system automatically prompted the installation of related software.

Once the software was installed, I accessed the system, which surprisingly wasn’t password protected.

Inside, I found a surveillance system, similar to the one I had that was now broken, but this one seemed more advanced and complex.

As I prepared to open the interface, I hesitated.

I could access live surveillance now.

Since Luna had given me this device, it likely meant the surveillance was installed in my home.

If I turned on the live feed, I might see everything happening there.

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Perhaps Betty and Michael were embracing in the bed that used to be ours, maybe beside a toddler’s bed holding a child not yet three years old—their child...

I shook my head, casting out these thoughts, and decided against viewing the live feed.

Instead, I opted to check the video archives.

I recalled the approximate time of my trip abroad with Luna; all the changes had happened during those twenty days when the surveillance at home was down.

That period remained a mystery, but hopefully, Luna’s system could clear up the confusion.

After setting the time, I opened the video file from the day I left.

The computer screen briefly went black before displaying the footage...

The scene that appeared was somewhat expected, yet still startling.

Indeed, it was a surveillance system installed in my home.

From the angle of the cameras, it was clear that whoever installed them was highly professional, a cut above my own skills.

The cameras covered nearly every angle and provided crystal-clear footage, far superior to my own setup.

This equipment was expensive, beyond what our company could afford.

This wasn’t just media-grade equipment; it was on the level of national intelligence or military use.

Because my memory of the exact times was fuzzy, I had set the timeline a bit earlier.

The footage showed Betty packing my things in the morning, arranging my clothes and tie, constantly chattering.

Seeing Betty on the screen, even if it was Betty from three years ago, stirred a tumult of emotions in me, a mix of longing and sorrow as if I hadn’t seen her in ages.

Michael also appeared, continuously advising me to be careful, his demeanor flawless.

If I hadn’t eventually learned of their affair, I might have been deceived by his acting for a lifetime.