When Mom was diagnosed with late-stage kidney failure, Dad didn’t hesitate for a second; he emptied the savings he had spent half a lifetime building just to cover her treatment.

Afraid she wouldn’t get enough nutrition after the surgery, he took on three jobs a day just to buy her the best supplements money could buy.

Watching him push himself like that, Mom would tear up with heartache.

She often told people at the hospital that she was the luckiest woman alive to have married a man like him.

And every time she said that Grandma would smile warmly and reply, “My son’s the lucky one; he married you.”

Grandma always said Mom was the kindest, most gentle person she’d ever known.

While other families bickered over petty things, their relationship was rare, like true mother and daughter. They were so close that it was hard to tell where one ended and the other began.

So when Mom was hospitalized, Grandma, despite her age, went to the hospital every single day.

She fed her by hand and wiped her body clean, never once complaining.

Mom noticed everything. She often said to me that Grandma treated her even better than her own mother did.

And my brother, he was the pride of our whole family.

Ever since he knew Mom wasn’t well, he worked hard without a word of complaint, even from a young age.

After getting accepted into Princeton University, my brother threw himself into studying medicine with an unshakeable focus.

He once said he wanted Mom to live a long and healthy life so our family could be spared the pain of sickness and loss.

When Mom was diagnosed with kidney failure, he didn’t hesitate; he gave up his chance to study abroad without a second thought.

And just like that, he donated one of his kidneys to her.

On the day of the surgery, Mom clung to him, sobbing uncontrollably, torn between overwhelming gratitude and the weight of guilt.

Even the other patients in the ward couldn’t help but praise us, saying we were the most loving and united family they had ever seen.

But that same family, once admired by all, once held together by love, was torn apart by Mom’s own hands.

I simply couldn’t make sense of it.

We had never even argued, not once.

During her stay in the hospital, she had been deeply moved by everything we did for her.

She even said, more than once, that our home held everything she ever treasured in life.

Then why did she end up killing the very people she loved most?

That question burned through my chest like wildfire, spreading pain with every breath.

I got up and began searching the house, desperate for any clue, anything at all, that might explain what went wrong.

On Mom’s bedside table, I spotted Dad’s hangover pills, the ones he always kept on hand after those exhausting business dinners.

On Dad’s bedside lay a well-worn guidebook on post-kidney transplant care, filled with his careful notes and highlights.

Above the bed hung a framed photo from their twentieth wedding anniversary.

In it, Mom clung sweetly to his arm, her face glowing with joy as she leaned against his shoulder.

Both of them looked so happy as if they had the world in their hands.

Grandma’s room was neat and simple, just like she had always kept it.

Inside her nightstand, the bracelet Mom once gave her rested quietly, tucked away like a treasure too precious to wear.

My brother’s room brimmed with information about kidney failure.

His books and handwritten notes were filled with hopeful scribbles, prayers and wishes for Mom’s recovery, written in the margins like spells of hope.

I turned the whole house upside down, searching every corner.

But there was nothing.

No clue, no sign, no reason to explain why Mom would suddenly slaughter the family she loved so dearly.

In the end, I opened the home surveillance footage again.

I re-watched the video of the murders with trembling fingers.

I had already gone through it once, back when I first heard the horrifying news.

There had been no signs of tampering.

In the footage, Dad, my brother, Grandma and Mom sat around the table, eating a meal together.

Everything had seemed so normal until it wasn’t.

Halfway through, Mom quietly stood and walked into the kitchen.

While the others remained unaware, she pulled out a kitchen knife, then, without warning, began slashing at them in a frenzy.

Her movements were swift and terrifying.

None of them had time to react before collapsing one by one.

Even their screams didn’t stop her.

In the video, her face was twisted with fury as she swung the knife over and over again like she wasn’t the same woman who once held us in her arms.

It was as if she were striking someone she had hated her whole life; her brutality was chilling, far beyond savage.

Even in death, Dad, my brother and Grandma wore frozen expressions of pain and disbelief.

Their eyes remained wide open, clouded with confusion, as if they had died without understanding why, unable to rest in peace.

Only after making sure all three were completely lifeless did Mom turn and leave the house, calm and satisfied.

But before stepping out the door, she looked straight at the surveillance camera, deep, deliberate.

I swallowed my grief and kept replaying that video again and again.

From sunrise to sundown, from the first bloom of spring to the coldest depths of winter.

For three long years, I didn’t take a single step beyond that threshold.

My entire world had shrunk to a screen, the footage looping endlessly, haunting every second of my life.

During that time, Dorian Wolfe came every day to check on me.

He had been my boyfriend since our police academy days.

“Rosalie, I’ve tried everything these past three years, but I still haven’t found your mom,” he said gently.

“I know you want to find the truth, but if the entire task force couldn’t solve this case, how can you do it alone?”

“They’ve already decided to close it. You should let it go, too. In this case, it’s impossible.”

He placed the food in front of me, his voice low, almost pleading, as if hoping I’d finally listen.

Back when we studied at the police academy, Dorian and I had shared a bond that felt unbreakable.

When I dropped out, he followed without hesitation, with no questions and no complaints.

For the past three years, while I locked myself away from the world, he came by every single day, comforting me and tending to me like I was the last thing that mattered.

At first, he sat beside me through day and night, combing through the case, hoping to uncover something we missed.

But time dragged on.

Three years slipped through our fingers and the case remained a riddle wrapped in shadows.

Mom had disappeared as if the earth itself had swallowed her whole.

People kept telling me, over and over again, "Let it go. Your mom’s just a heartless killer. Digging won’t change the truth."

But I couldn’t let it go.

None of it made sense.

Why would she do something like that?

She adored my brother.

She loved Dad deeply.

She was closer to Grandma than any daughter could be.

Why on earth would she kill them?

That question kept gnawing at me day after day.

It clouded my thoughts and darkened every breath.

Deep down, I felt something was off, but I couldn’t put my finger on it.

So, I kept watching the surveillance footage.

Again and again.

Searching for even the tiniest slip, the faintest clue.

Hoping the truth would finally crack through the silence.

Just as Dorian urged me once again to give up, a sudden flash of clarity struck while I stared at the replay.

My eyes lit up as the clouds had finally parted.

I shot to my feet and shouted, breathless with excitement, “I know the truth now!”

Dorian snapped to attention. “What is it?” he asked at once.

But instead of answering, I swerved sharply. “Let’s get married.”

He froze, clearly taken aback.

“Why are you bringing up marriage all of a sudden? What does that have to do with your mom’s case?”

Over the past three years, he had watched me close myself off from the world because of that case.

He had brought up marriage more than once, wanting to become a family so he could look after me.

But I turned him down every time.

He knew that until the case was solved, I couldn’t think of anything else.

So, hearing me suggest it now. It stunned him. And it made him curious.

I met his gaze squarely and said, voice firm, “Don’t ask too much for now. Just make sure news of our marriage gets out and spread far and wide. Invite influencers, reporters and anyone you can. When the time comes, you’ll understand everything.”

Dorian looked into my eyes for a long beat, searching my face.

Then he gave a solid nod. “Alright.”

After finalizing everything with Dorian, we set the wedding date just two days ahead.

In those two short days, we sent invitations far and wide to relatives, friends and even neighbors from down the street.

Following my instructions to the letter, Dorian also invited a crowd of streamers and reporters to the venue, making sure the event would be broadcast live across the internet.

As the wedding unfolded in full grandeur, the invited guests murmured among themselves, unable to contain their curiosity.

“That massive case from three years ago still hasn’t been solved. Why is Rosalie suddenly getting married?”

“Yeah, I heard her mother killed the whole family. She was devastated, dropped out of school and shut herself away. I thought the trauma had driven her off the deep end.”

“I honestly thought she’d harm herself. Getting this wedding invitation was the last thing I expected.”

“This wedding feels too sudden. Something’s off.”

I tuned it all out. The gossip, the whispers, the stares, they meant nothing to me.

My eyes stayed fixed on one thing: completing the ceremony with Dorian.

Just as we were about to exchange rings, the banquet hall was thrown into chaos; my mother, who had vanished without a trace for three long years, suddenly appeared before everyone.

She stepped into the hall wearing the dress my father had once custom-made just for her, now stained with time.

In her hand, she clutched a kitchen knife, its blade catching the light as she stared directly at me.

Three years had carved deep lines into her face.

The crescent-shaped eyes that once danced with warmth now gleamed with icy detachment.

The moment she appeared, the entire room fell into stunned silence.

Then chaos broke loose; guests scrambled in panic, rushing to corners, curling up in fear.

Even the streamers and reporters froze for a moment before shakily pointing their cameras at her.

As the lens zoomed in on her emotionless face and that blade in her grip, the livestream chat lit up like wildfire.

[Holy crap, that’s the woman who murdered her whole family three years ago! She just walked in like nothing happened?]

[It’s her daughter’s wedding today. Did she really show up with a knife? Is she going to kill her too?]

[She must be here to finish what she started. Three years ago, the daughter survived. Now she’s back to tie up loose ends!]

[This woman’s a monster. Who slaughters their own family?]

[Oh my god, just watching this gives me chills. Bride, run!]

The viewers held their breath, watching in horror, every eye glued to the screen, waiting to see what I would do.

Dorian instinctively stepped in front of me, shielding me with his body, eyes fixed warily on my mother.

But I didn’t flinch.

With the entire hall watching, I calmly stepped around him and walked straight toward her, my voice cool and composed.

“Mom, long time no see.”