A burglar breaks into our home, taking my mother-in-law and me captive.

He stabs my mother-in-law's eyes, blinding her. Then, he slices her tongue and strips her, even putting on a live stream to air the whole thing. He claims that he'll auction my mother-in-law's organs if we can't pay the ransom of ten million dollars.

The live stream infuriates the Internet, and everyone starts searching for my husband, the city's wealthiest man.

No one knows he's on a luxury cruise ship, holding an engagement ceremony with his childhood friend.

He snarls, "What a dumb excuse to trick me out of my money! I'll burn the money for them when they're dead!"

When my mother-in-law, Margaret Chapman and I were kidnapped and tortured by Henry Larson's enemies, he was on a date with his first love, Bethany Foster.

Hours later, the burglars grew irritated by Margaret's relentless cries and tore out her corneas.

They dumped her, barely covered in tattered rags, at the bottom deck of a cruise ship—right in front of Henry, who was gently draping a coat over Bethany's shoulders.

Henry's gaze swept over Margaret, who was whimpering helplessly. Then, in a voice laced with cold amusement, he scoffed. "Classic Jessica. You actually convinced Mom to go along with your little act?"

Margaret's mangled arms twitched with flesh and blood exposed as she gasped through the pain. "Henry… It hurts…"

…

This was the 18th hour since the burglars had begun their inhuman torture.

And yet, Henry—the man whose mere presence could send waves through Jensburg's business world—was too busy securing a name for Bethany's son.

The burglars had made so many ransom calls from my phone that it went dead.

And as the burglars realized no one was answering, one of them grabbed my fingers and snapped two of them backward without warning.

A sharp, unbearable pain shot through me before I was kicked, landing at Margaret's feet. She was heartbroken and stared down at me in terror.

The lead burglar snarled, "Isn't Henry supposed to be a man who loves his family? Then why isn't he picking up your calls? These family photos must be fake, huh? You messing with us?"

As he finished his words, his boot crushed my body, making my ribs creak.

My heart seized, and blood gushed from my mouth and nose. Before I could even react, his filthy, jagged nails dug into my nostrils, yanking me forward.

His sneering laughter buzzed in my ears like a death knell.

"You've got two minutes. If no one picks up, this old woman—well, you'll see."

I grew up in a single-parent home. But after marrying into the Larson family, Margaret had loved me like her own daughter.

And now, she sat beside me, trembling violently as her face had turned ghostly pale.

A sharp, searing pain made me cough up more blood, but I had no choice.

I clutched my phone like a lifeline, and my voice shook as I repeatedly swore Henry would answer the phone.

I vowed to protect Margaret.

With trembling fingers, I dialed Henry's number again. This time, the call connected.

"Hello?" Henry's familiar, gentle voice came through the receiver.

Upon hearing that, my teeth chattered uncontrollably as the burglar's blade pressed against Margaret's eye.

I fought to steady my breath. "Henry, Margaret and I have been held hostage. We—"

"Jessica!" Henry's voice turned sharp as he cut me off with an impatient sigh. "I don't know what kind of stunt you're pulling this time, but leave Mom out of it. And don't say crap like 'being held hostage.' If you still want this family to function, stop using Mom to fight for attention."

Before I could say another word, the call ended.

The burglar twisted his knife, and beads of blood appeared on Margaret's face.

"No…" My breath hitched in terror. I redialed, terrified that Margaret's face would become a canvas for their cruelty in the next second.

The call connected again.

I was on the brink of breaking. "Henry, I'm begging you! Just believe me this once! Margaret and I are being held hostage. Please, pay them ten million dollars to save us!"

This time, he didn't hang up immediately. I dared to hope. For a fleeting second, I thought he might finally believe me.

But then Henry's voice came through again. It was colder than ice.

"Ten million dollars?" A soft chuckle. "Well then, I guess I'll wait until they kill you both. I'll get you two ten million dollars at your funerals by then."

Then—silence. Henry had turned off his phone.

A moment later, my screen lit up with a message from Bethany. It was a video.

In it, Henry stood on a grand stage, wearing the custom-tailored suit I had picked out for him. He was holding a young boy's hand, beaming at the crowd.

"The rumors about Bethany being a single mother were false. Derrick is our child.

"Beth and I grew up together, and no one can ever come between us. There were misunderstandings when she got pregnant, leading to unfortunate rumors.

"But today, I want to make things clear—I am Derrick's father. From now on, I'll care for both mother and son."

Derrick's innocent voice piped up. "Daddy."

And Henry unhesitatingly responded with a hum.

Margaret's entire body shuddered. Tears welled in her eyes, streaming down her face as she stared blankly at the screen.

Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something—but no words came out.

Bethany clung to Henry's arm the whole time with a soft smile.

Along with the video, Bethany had sent me a photo of Henry, her, and Derrick— a perfect little family.

And then, she sent me a message. "Jessica, Henry gave me your engagement cruise as a gift today. We're getting married at the end of the month. Also, he said he wants Margaret to be our witness."

It felt like something sharp had pierced straight through my gut. Like claws had reached inside me, twisting, tearing, shredding me from the inside out.

The pain was so unbearable that even my vision blurred red.

Somewhere in the distance, Margaret's sharp cry rang out. "Ah—"

By then, the burglars had lost all patience. One of them yanked Margaret by the hair and slammed her onto the floor with brutal force.

"You old woman! Aren't you supposed to be some billionaire's mother? And yet, you're not even worth ten million dollars? What are you good for?"

Margaret cried out as pain ripped through her scalp while her body writhed against the ground.

"Jess, run! Run now!"

Even in the face of terror, Margaret kept urging me to escape.

But her agonized screams did the opposite—they didn't paralyze me with fear. Instead, they fueled my courage. I sprang to my feet, determined to snatch her away from them.

"Agh!" Before I could even reach Margaret, another burglar shoved me hard from behind.

My head slammed against the sharp edge of a table, and blood gushed out instantly.

"You shameless woman! Are you trying to fight back?"

Through the haze of pain and crimson, I saw the burglar grab a heavy ashtray. He raised it high before bringing it down on my fingers again and again until I heard the sickening snap of bones.

The searing pain sent me into unconsciousness multiple times, but each time, Margaret's cries yanked me back to the surface.

When the burglars finally got tired of beating me, another one grabbed Margaret and flung her to the other side of the room. Then, he pulled out his phone and started a live stream.

Their voices were cruel and heartbreaking.

"They say seeing is believing, right? Since a phone call isn't enough, let's start a live stream and let that bastard witness it for himself!

"I refuse to believe a man that rich would sit back and do nothing while his own mother and wife suffer!"

That day, two headlines dominated social media.

First, a 60-year-old woman was livestreamed undressed during a hostage situation. Second, the business mogul Henry Larson had announced his engagement.

Both trended at the top, neck and neck, flooding every corner of the internet.

Henry was all smiles in the video as he gently stroked Derrick's head.

Facing the media, he declared, "That's all for today, everyone. The interview is over. Derrick is tired, and Beth and I need to take him to rest."

Bethany lowered her gaze, and a soft smile tugged at her lips as she said, "Henry has always been like this. Family always comes first for him."

Meanwhile, back in the hostage room, the burglars had torn Margaret's shirt from her body, leaving bruises in the wake of their hands.

They shoved her toward the camera like a prop, laughing and treating her suffering like entertainment.

My head was pinned to the ground beneath the burglar's foot, and blood and tears streamed as I watched the scene unfold helplessly.

Margaret's screams gradually faded from desperate cries of "Don't touch me!" and "Henry, save me!" to incoherent whimpers.

Her eyes lost focus, and she started to drool.

The live stream was flooded with comments. "This is sickening! That poor woman!"

"Someone help her! The burglars said they'd release her if her son shows up, right?"

"People on the internet, find her son! Hurry!"

The burglar kicked Margaret's limp body aside and sneered.

"Well, old woman, looks like your precious billionaire son doesn't give a damn about you. In that case…"

Then, without hesitation, he raised a knife and drove it toward Margaret's throat.

My body seized with terror, and I pleaded desperately.

I struggled, thrashed, and screamed. "Please! Please, let her go! Take me instead! I'll give you whatever you want! Just don't hurt her!"

Blood bubbled up my throat, spilling onto the floor as I choked on my sobs. A hard slap sent my head snapping to the side, and warm liquid dripped from my ear.

Soon, the air stank of blood.

Margaret, barely clinging to consciousness, turned her empty gaze toward me after hearing my cries. And even then, she tried to comfort me.

"Jess, don't cry. I'm okay. Don't be scared, sweetheart…"

I felt like I was going insane. Her voice sent an unbearable chill through my bones.

But I couldn't afford to break.

Margaret was already 65 years old. She should have been enjoying her golden years, surrounded by love, not enduring this inhuman torment.

Tears mixed with blood as they slid down my face.

I forced my voice to stay steady. "Margaret, I'm right here with you. Don't be afraid."

Abruptly, Margaret flashed a smile at me. That smile shattered me completely.

The burglar chuckled. Then, with a flick of his wrist, he plunged the knife downward.

"Useless old woman!"

In that split second, a force beyond reason and fear took over me. I lunged, shoving Margaret aside—just as the blade buried itself deep into my throat.

Blood gushed like a fountain.

So this was what dying feels like—numb, almost distant.

Even when the knife was pulled out, I bit back my sobs, forcing myself to stay silent.

I couldn't let Margaret know how much it hurt. I needed her to know that I was still with her.

Before I closed my eyes, memories flickered before me.

I saw the day Henry proposed—how he bought a cruise named after me, knelt at my feet, and swore lifelong devotion as he slid the ring called "Eternal Love" onto my finger.

Then, on our wedding day, Henry swore over and over that he would always take care of me.

And then, Bethany. After she returned from abroad, she set one trap after another—dragging me, step by step, into ruin.

I saw the shift in Henry's eyes—first doubt, then disbelief, and finally, pure disgust.

My thoughts started to scatter, but I heard Margaret's trembling voice somewhere in the distance.

"Jess, what's wrong? Talk to me, sweetheart. Jess, answer me! Where are you?"

I wanted to tell her I was here, but I couldn't. My throat had been torn open.

There were so many things I regretted when it came to Margaret. I wanted to say sorry to her. I should have protected her.

Finally, I let my eyes slip shut.

By then, Margaret finally caught the heavy scent of blood drifting toward her. As she moved closer, her hands brushed against the warm, sticky pool spreading across the floor.

When her fingers found the gaping wound in my neck, she froze completely.

The live stream chat erupted.

"OMG! Where is that man? Why hasn't he shown up yet?"

"Someone please find out who her husband is! Is this real? Help! She's dying!"

…

The burglar dropped the knife, and panic flashed across his face. "His wife's dead. No money now. What do we do?"

His partner let out a cold laugh and said decisively, "No big deal. We've still got the old woman alive. She's his real mother, after all. That ten million dollars will be ours!"

The burglar yanked Margaret up by the throat, nearly choking her, and shoved her toward the camera.

"Look closely! This old woman's son is Jensburg's very own billionaire—Henry Larson!"

In an instant, the comment section exploded.

"Wait, what? Henry's mother is at the wedding, right? He literally just announced his engagement to that painter, Ms. Foster!"

"Are these guys insane? How could they make up stories just for ransom money now?"

Just as confusion rippled through the chat, a new comment scrolled across the screen.

"Hold on—I'm on the cruise ship right now! I just saw Mr. Larson staring at his phone. His face looks tense!"

"Don't hurt Mrs. Larson! Mr. Larson definitely saw the messages—he'll pay!"

Then, a bolded message appeared, catching the burglars' attention. They read the comment aloud. "I'm Henry Larson! Stop everything right now!"

The moment Margaret heard "Henry", she lurched toward the voice and flailed her hands. "Henry! Save Jess!"

The burglars quickly connected to the caller, but the voice on the other end wasn't Henry.

Realizing they'd been played, the lead burglar cursed and threw Margaret to the ground. Her head hit the floor with a sickening crack, and blood pooled beneath her.

Margaret gasped in pain.

At the sight of that, the comments kept flooding in.

"Don't hurt Mrs. Larson! I'm Mr. Larson's assistant!"

"Henry's real mother is at the wedding! You guys abducted the wrong person!"

The burglar glanced at a nearby framed photo and laughed mockingly. Then, without hesitation, he picked up the same knife he had used on me and pressed the blade to Margaret's eye.

"Get Henry on the phone now, or I'll carve out this old woman's eyes and make soup out of them!"

It was a life-or-death moment, so the assistant had to dial Henry.

"Hello? Who's this?" A child's innocent voice answered.

Then, a warm voice followed in the background. "Derrick, come here. I made soup for you. Let me feed you."

Derrick handed over the phone.

Henry's voice came next, but his tone was irritated and sharp. "I said I'm not dealing with anything today. Why are you calling?"

The assistant hesitated. But seeing how Margaret was barely holding on, he had no choice.

"Mr. Larson… is Margaret Chapman your mother? She—"

Henry cut him off with an icy snap. "Jessica found you, didn't she? I'm warning you—if you ever let someone use my mother to get my attention again, you're fired. On the spot!"

His cold, final words echoed through the livestream. They rang in Margaret's ears.

She only heard the irritation in his voice.

"Henry…" Margaret whispered his name, but the moment the tears spilled from her eyes, her body gave out.

She crumpled to the ground like a butterfly with broken wings as the last hope crushed beneath her. And this time, she didn't fight it.