The Hidden Mic: A Chilling Betrayal in Our Own Home
We had lived in that apartment for three years.
It wasn’t anything fancy—just two bedrooms, beige walls, and those popcorn ceilings that always made me think of cottage cheese. But it was ours. We filled it with secondhand furniture, stacks of books, and those silly fridge magnets we collected on road trips. It wasn’t perfect, but it was home.
Then everything changed.
The Landlord’s Strange Visit
It started on a Saturday morning. Owen had already left for work, and I was still in my robe, sipping coffee, when Rick, our landlord, showed up. He had texted the day before, saying he needed to check our bathroom for water damage from a burst pipe upstairs. No big deal, right?
But the second he stepped inside, something felt… off.
Rick wasn’t the chatty type, but this time, he barely looked at me. Just a stiff nod, then he walked straight to the bathroom like he owned the place.
“I just need to check your bathroom walls,” he said, already shutting the door behind him.
I stood in the hallway, coffee in hand, listening.
But there was nothing to hear.
No tapping. No scraping. No sounds of inspection. Just… silence. Ten minutes passed. Then fifteen. My coffee went cold.
“What is he doing in there?” I muttered to myself.
Finally, the door opened. Rick stepped out, avoiding my eyes.
“Everything looks fine, Hannah,” he said, already heading for the door. No explanation. No small talk. Just… gone.
The Crooked Mirror
The next night, I noticed it.
The bathroom mirror—ugly, cheap, and always slightly crooked—was tilted just a little more than usual.
“Owen, did you bump this?” I asked, adjusting it.
“Nope,” he called from the couch. “Maybe Rick did when he was checking for leaks.”
I reached behind the mirror to straighten it—and my fingers brushed something wrong.
A hole.
Small. Perfectly round. And inside… a wire.
My breath caught.
I leaned closer. There, hidden behind the mirror, was a tiny microphone, embedded in the wall like it had been there for years.
“Owen!” My voice shook. “Come here. NOW.”
The Truth Unfolds
Owen rushed in, took one look, and grabbed a screwdriver.
When he pulled the mirror away, we both froze.
The hole didn’t just stop at our wall—it tunneled straight into the apartment next door.
Someone had been listening to us.
We took pictures, then fled to a park bench, where Owen finally told me the truth.
“Hannah… I didn’t want to say anything yet, but I’m up for a VP promotion,” he said, rubbing his temples. “It’s between me and two other guys. One of them, Derek… he made a threat.”
“What kind of threat?”
“He said if I got the job, he’d dig up dirt on me.”
My stomach dropped.
*”You think *this* is how he’s doing it?”* I whispered.
Owen’s jaw tightened. “Rick must be in on it. He had access. He knew where to hide it.”
The Investigation
We went to the police. The detective barely blinked.
“Happens more than you’d think,” he said. “Corporate espionage. People will do anything for leverage.”
But Rick was already gone.
His office? Empty. His phone? Disconnected.
Like he’d never existed.
The Fallout
A week later, Owen came home with news.
“Derek got fired,” he said, grabbing a beer. “Michael, the other guy in the running, came forward. Said Derek tried to recruit him to dig up dirt on me. Even offered to split the promotion.”
I exhaled. *”So it *was* him.”*
“Yeah. He admitted everything. Said he paid Rick to plant the mic.”
A Fresh Start
We moved out as soon as our lease ended. No discussion. That apartment wasn’t ours anymore.
Our new house has thick walls. A sturdy door. And the first thing Owen did?
He installed the bathroom mirror himself.
Now, sometimes, I catch him staring at it, like he’s still checking for wires.
One night, he sat on the edge of the tub, exhausted.
“I keep wondering how much they heard,” he said.
I squeezed his hand. “Nothing that mattered.”
But the truth is, betrayal doesn’t always come with a warning.
Sometimes, it’s just a landlord with a clipboard.
A crooked mirror.
And a secret, waiting to be found.
