My family had married two daughters-in-law, both the beloved daughters of my best friends, into our home at the same time. For three years, the marriages seemed stable, until one tragic night changed everything.

It was past midnight when the first calls came—frantic, desperate calls for help from Monica and Riley, my two daughters-in-law. They were being attacked, ambushed by knife-wielding gangsters. Thirty calls were made to my sons. Thirty times, the calls were ignored or hung up.

When I finally arrived at the scene, it was too late. The alley was stained with blood. Monica and Riley lay motionless on the cold ground, their clothes soaked in bright red, their breaths shallow, fading. The attacker had vanished, leaving behind only the horrific evidence of his violence.

Monica's phone still glowed in the dark, displaying dozens of unanswered calls. In Riley’s hand, her phone clutched tightly, a conversation left open with my youngest son. His impatient, cold voice echoed from the speaker:

"Stop calling me to get attention. This is the first time Rachel’s invited us to her birthday and if you ruin this for me, I’ll divorce you!"

I stood frozen, my breath catching in my throat, anger boiling inside me as I took in the scene. My hands trembled with rage. The sheer cruelty in his voice was unbearable.

And then, silence. My youngest son, sensing her quiet, assumed she was finally intimidated. His voice dripped with disdain as he added, “Why aren’t you saying anything? Afraid now, huh? You’re nothing compared to Rachel. You can’t even match one of her fingers.”

Two bastards.

Just as I was trying to process the horror in front of me, a girl’s sweet, seductive voice floated from the phone, still in Riley's hand.

"Mike, who are you talking to?" she asked, her tone playful and charming.

Mike’s voice immediately shifted. His once impatient tone softened into something almost sickeningly sweet. "No one," he lied, "just some advertising sales."

I could feel the fury building in my chest, but I forced myself to stay calm. With trembling hands, I dialed for an ambulance. The calmness in my voice was only skin-deep; inside, I was screaming.

Soon, Monica and Riley were rushed to the hospital, both barely clinging to life.

The doctors worked through the night, issuing multiple critical condition notices as they fought to save them. Blood transfusions were hurriedly arranged as Monica’s condition worsened.

At the same time, the internet was buzzing with updates about Rachel’s birthday party—thanks to my sons.

While Monica was bleeding out, Rick was lighting up the night sky with fireworks in Rachel’s honor, a spectacle that quickly became the city’s top trending topic. "What a grand celebration," the headlines read.

At midnight, Riley’s condition took a turn for the worse—her chest was infected and the doctors feared she wouldn’t make it. Meanwhile, Mike had rented out massive billboards all over the city for Rachel, with messages of love flashing across the screens.

Netizens swooned over his display of affection.

“Oh my God, this Rachel is so lucky! She’s being treated like a queen!”

“I want a man like him!”

“I wish I could marry him!”

Marry him? If only they knew. Would they still want him if they saw what I was seeing? His wife fighting for her life while he was busy fawning over another woman.

I stood outside the operating room, my heart in my throat. Monica, unconscious and barely alive, kept whispering Rick’s name. I could feel her anguish; when they had first married, Rick had loved her deeply. No wonder she couldn’t let him go.

A doctor rushed out, his expression urgent.

"Madam, is there any way you can contact Rick? Monica’s will to live is fading and if we can bring him here, it might give her the strength to fight.”

The doctor’s words cut me like a knife. Monica, the vibrant young woman who once lit up every room she entered, now lay on a hospital bed, broken and frail, like a discarded rag doll. My heart shattered at the sight of her, so small and helpless.

I pulled out my phone, hands trembling and dialed my eldest son, Rick. The phone rang twice before he picked up, his voice annoyingly casual.

"You need to come back right now," I demanded. "Do you even know what's happened to Monica—"

He cut me off with an impatient snort. "Mom, Monica’s just using you to guilt-trip me. I told her I’m here with Rachel for her birthday, so don’t make a fuss."

I could feel the anger bubbling up, but I forced myself to stay calm. "Monica is in the hospital," I said, my voice low and urgent. "She needs you, Rick. Right now."

A mocking sneer sounded from the other end of the line. "Hospital? Please, mom. Monica’s not the fragile type. She’s probably faking it because she knows Rachel needs me tonight. You really need to stop giving Rachel such a hard time."

The beeping on Monica’s heart monitor was growing slower, the lines flattening. My patience snapped. I couldn’t hold back the rage any longer.

"Monica is bleeding out!" I roared into the phone. "She’s dying, Rick. Are you coming or not?"

For a moment, there was silence. I thought—hoped—I had gotten through to him. But then his voice came back, colder than before.

"Bleeding out?" he scoffed. "Why don’t you just say she’s been stabbed to death? You’re being dramatic, mom. Rachel’s calling me now, so I’m gonna go."

Before I could say another word, he hung up.

My chest tightened as I struggled to breathe, trembling with fury and disbelief. How had I raised such heartless sons? I hated myself for ever bringing them into this world.

Monica’s condition was deteriorating quickly. Her heart monitor was a sharp reminder of how little time was left. I hurried to put on sterile clothes, desperate to do anything to awaken her will to survive. But just as I was about to enter the room, Riley, who had just come out of her own surgery, staggered from her bed like a woman possessed.

She collapsed at Monica’s side, clutching her hand tightly.

"Monica… Monica, wake up, please," Riley sobbed. "We promised each other we'd see the snow in the north, remember? You can't leave me here, not alone…"

Her voice cracked and she buried her face in Monica’s limp hand, tears streaming down her cheeks. The pain in her voice was heartbreaking. I watched helplessly as Riley’s strength gave out. With one final cry for her friend, she fainted, her body crumpling beside Monica’s.

It was almost unbearable, seeing these two young women fighting for their lives while my sons—those selfish, blind fools—were too wrapped up in their own worlds to care.

My eyes blurred with tears as I stood there, helpless. I couldn’t help but remember the day my sons got married. Monica and Riley were full of life back then—Monica, always cheerful and lively, while Riley was sunny and bright.

On their wedding night, the two of them giggled and whispered together, plotting how they would "deal with" me, their so-called evil mother-in-law.

Rick and Mike had been utterly helpless, eventually carrying their wives back to their rooms, surrendering to the girls' mischievousness. That was their youth—their clever, vibrant, joyful youth. But now, that energy was gone. Instead, here they were—Monica, dying in her hospital bed and Riley, barely holding on.

As the first light of dawn crept through the windows, the doctors finally stabilized their conditions. I should have felt relief, but my heart was too heavy with sorrow. Then, I saw Rachel’s latest post in her social media feed.

"I'm back home. Thank you to my two good friends for celebrating my birthday~ I will always be their only baby~"

And there they were—my two foolish sons, standing beside her with ridiculous smiles plastered on their faces. They had no idea, no clue that while they celebrated with Rachel, their wives had fought for their lives, crossing the threshold of death and barely returning.

These were the women my sons had once begged me to marry, kneeling in front of me and swearing their undying love. They had been so earnest, so convincing.

"Mom, don’t worry," Rick had said back then. "I love Monica so much. I can’t even think about life without her."

"Yes, mom," Mike had chimed in. "Riley is like my sun. I can't live without her."

I had believed them. I had allowed myself to believe that they would be good husbands, that they could love these women as they deserved to be loved. I thought I was seeing the start of something beautiful.

***

I stayed in the hospital for an entire week, watching over Monica and Riley as they clung to life. When they finally regained consciousness, their first instinct was to demand answers from their husbands. But I knew better—Rick and Mike weren’t going to give them anything close to an explanation.

So, I gathered the two frail girls and took them back home, away from the suffocating indifference of the hospital.

***

As we arrived home, a sickening sight greeted us. Two uninvited guests were already there—Rachel and her brother, Randy. The moment Monica and Riley laid eyes on Randy, I noticed a faint tremble run through their bodies. Something was terribly wrong.

Inside the room, I overheard the conversation that made my blood freeze. Rick, Mike, Rachel and Randy were huddled together, discussing how to help Randy get away with... it.

"You said it was just a little stabbing, right? They didn’t even die! Why call the police?" Randy's voice was nonchalant, as if the brutal attack on Monica and Riley was a mere inconvenience.

"Exactly!" Mike chimed in, puffing out his chest. "They're probably just looking for money. Don’t worry, Rachel, I’ll hire the best lawyer for Randy. I’ll make sure nothing happens to him."

My breath caught in my throat. Randy. Randy was the one who stabbed Monica and Riley. And here they were, treating it like a joke, like a problem that could be solved with lawyers and money. Riley’s clenched fists shook with barely contained rage.

Before I could react, Rick spotted us at the doorway. His face twisted with impatience as he spat out, "Oh, so you finally decided to crawl back home, huh? I was beginning to hope you'd died out there!"

Monica stared at him, stunned. She hadn’t even had the chance to confront him, but Rachel stepped in, her voice dripping with false sweetness.

"Ricky~," she cooed at Rick, trying to soothe his temper. Then she turned to Monica, pulling her close in a mock display of affection. "Don’t take it to heart. You know how Rick gets when he's upset. He doesn’t mean it~."

Rick’s anger visibly cooled under Rachel’s touch. He nodded, as if forgiving Monica for daring to leave in the first place. "Fine, go make Rachel some longevity noodles to apologize for running off like that. Do it and I’ll forgive you."

Monica’s eyes flashed with defiance, staring at Rachel as if she were the devil herself. Her voice was low, trembling with fury. "Apologize to this vicious woman? Is she worthy of my apology?"

My heart raced. Could it be? Were the thugs from that night—Randy and perhaps even Rachel—responsible for the attack on Monica and Riley? I had arrived too late to see who assaulted them, but Monica and Riley... they saw everything.

I realized then that this went deeper than I had imagined. The girls weren’t just victims of neglect or cruelty—they had been hunted, attacked by the very people Rick and Mike were now protecting. Rachel wasn’t just a manipulative woman vying for my sons' attention—she was a wolf in sheep’s clothing, standing at the center of this horrific crime.

Rachel's tears fell instantly, her voice shaky as she whimpered, "I know you don't like me, but how can you..."

Rick, seeing his precious Rachel so "wronged," was consumed with fury. He lunged forward and slapped Monica hard, too quickly for me to intervene. The sound of the slap echoed through the room, leaving Monica, already weak from her illness, to crumple to the floor in agony. She had been trying so hard to find answers, but in her fragile state, that blow seemed to take what little strength she had left.

Riley let out a cry of distress, stumbling as she tried to rush to Monica’s aid. But Rick stood in her way, his voice cold and commanding. "Let her get up on her own! She’s just acting out, playing victim. I don’t know where she learned these pathetic tricks!"

I could see the shift in Monica’s expression as she gazed at Rick, her eyes hardening with a new sense of resolve. Whatever feelings of love or loyalty she had for him seemed to fade with that single slap. She wasn’t going to tolerate this any longer.

I helped Monica up, gently guiding her to the sofa, trying to calm her down. My heart ached for her, for both of them. And yet, Rick continued to mutter insults under his breath, bitterness twisting his words.

"Why did I marry such a green tea bitch? She's just like that manipulative woman Rachel always talks about!"

As if echoing Rick’s delusion, Mike, who had been standing idly, suddenly approached Riley with a sly grin. "Riley, isn’t Harvey Specter, that top lawyer, your high school classmate? Maybe you could—"

Riley cut him off sharply, her eyes cold as steel. "Don’t even think about it!" She wasn’t going to be used to save Randy, no matter what Mike or anyone else wanted.

Rachel, ever the actress, immediately threw herself at Riley’s feet, her voice soft and pleading. "Miss Riley, I know you dislike me, but you can’t let my brother suffer for this. Please, help him!"

Her eyes flashed with provocation as she feigned helplessness. Behind her, Randy knelt as well, his smile twisted and sinister. "Yes, Miss Riley, you wouldn’t leave us in this situation, would you?"

Riley’s reaction was immediate and visceral. It was as if she had been plunged into some kind of nightmare, her entire body shaking uncontrollably. She clutched at me, her grip tight as if holding on to a lifeline. She was terrified and the sight of those two—Rachel and Randy—kneeling before her only made her fear worse.

With all the strength she could muster, Riley screamed at them, her voice hoarse and filled with anguish. "Get out... GET OUT!!"

But Mike couldn't see her helplessness and fear. He just dragged Riley toward the door, his grip rough and his expression hard, he seemed utterly blind to her terror. He thought she was throwing a tantrum, not recognizing the fear that gripped her. With a scowl, he shoved her in front of the storm outside, forcing her to confront the raging thunder and lightning.

Riley’s eyes widened with panic, the storm outside triggering something deep and painful within her. It was the same kind of night—the same kind of storm—when everything had fallen apart for her.

"If you don’t agree to help, then get out of my house!" Mike’s voice was harsh, his patience gone.

Riley couldn’t respond. Words seemed to fail her as she shook her head in utter despair. There was nothing left to say. Mike, disappointed and angry, muttered, "I didn’t expect you to be the kind of person who wouldn’t help someone in need. I misjudged you!"

Without warning, he pushed her roughly and she tumbled down the steps, the rain quickly soaking her as she landed outside.

I immediately took them both back to the hospital, unable to process the cruelty of it all. They remained unconscious for three days, trapped in their nightmares, while the storm outside continued to rage.

When they finally woke, summer rain still pelted against the hospital window. Riley and Monica, staring out into the storm, spoke softly, their voices barely above a whisper.

"Mom, we want a divorce."

There was no hesitation in their decision, no room for second thoughts. Their minds were made up and I had to respect their wishes. So, I drafted the divorce agreements myself, making sure to secure the best possible terms for them. After all, it wasn’t their fault—they hadn’t been the ones who had broken their vows.

When I presented the agreements to Rick and Mike, they were stunned. Rick, with a look of disbelief, asked, "I haven’t even blamed her for running away from home and now she wants a divorce just because I slapped her?"

Mike, angrier than ever, snapped, "Is it really that serious? I didn’t even hit her! What did I do wrong to deserve this?"

Both of them stared at the agreements, their expressions shifting between shock and indignation. Mike, shaking his head, said, "Brother, is she really serious this time? She was the one who insulted Rachel first!"

"And Riley... I can’t believe she wouldn’t help with something so small. She really let me down!" Rick’s eyes flickered with frustration before he finally curled his lip into a sneer.

"Sign!" he said, much to Mike’s surprise.

Mike blinked at him, confused. "Are you serious? You’re going to just sign it?"

Rick, ever confident in his delusion, explained with a smirk, "They’re playing hard to get. They want us to chase after them, but I’m not falling for it. They’ve become way too unruly and they need a lesson. Let’s sign the divorce agreements and then we’ll see if they come running back, begging us to take them back!"

Mike seemed unsure but eventually agreed, trusting Rick’s misguided plan.

I stood there, watching the arrogance and self-righteousness of my two foolish sons. They were completely blind to what was really happening, convinced that their wives were just testing them.

Mike, with a grin that grated on my nerves, sidled up to me and said sweetly, "Mom, can you help us reach out to Riley’s high school friend? You know Rachel really needs Harvey right now."

I responded with a fake smile, hiding my contempt. "Of course," I said, knowing full well that I had no intention of doing anything to help them anymore.

As the trial day began, Rick and Mike stood confidently outside the courtroom, both dressed in their finest, as if this were a routine event they had already won. Rick, noticing Rachel's concerned expression, tried to reassure her with a casual tone.

"Rachel, don't worry, everything will be fine. Your brother's situation is under control." His voice dripped with false confidence.

Rachel, playing her part, looked up with tears in her eyes and nodded affectionately. "I believe in you," she said, though there was a glint of something colder in her gaze.

Rick, feeling even more sure of himself, caught sight of Monica, Riley and me as we approached. We shielded the two women carefully, ensuring they were supported and protected. Seeing this, Rick couldn't help but smirk. He nudged Mike with his elbow, pride swelling in his chest.

"See? Just like I said, they came running back to us in a few days. Women, you can’t spoil them," he declared smugly.

Mike, always eager to follow his brother’s lead, grinned and gave him a thumbs up. "Brother, you’re still the best."

But as we passed them without a glance, completely ignoring their presence, Mike’s smile faded. The more he thought about it, the more uneasy he became. Something wasn't right.

"Brother," Mike said, his voice uncertain, "I don’t think they’re here to find us. It looks like they’re... suing too."

Rick’s smirk faltered and he narrowed his eyes, watching us head toward the courtroom. "What could they possibly be suing for?" he muttered, but a growing sense of dread was creeping in. He couldn't shake it.

That dread only intensified as they entered the courtroom and saw us seated in the plaintiff's section. Rick and Mike exchanged nervous glances, their overconfidence now visibly cracking. Still, they tried to keep up the charade for Rachel’s sake.

"Rachel, don't worry," Rick whispered, though his voice trembled. "Your brother just accidentally stabbed those women a few times, nothing serious. They’re not dead, after all."

"Yeah," Mike added, his bravado fading. "If those women hadn’t been out so late at night, none of this would’ve happened. It’s their own fault. And what kind of decent woman walks alone in a dark alley, anyway? Randy was just doing his part to keep the streets safe."

Their voices trailed off as the weight of the situation sank in. The sight of us, particularly Monica and Riley, seated across from them, shattered their last vestiges of confidence. Both men fell silent, struggling to process what was happening.

Finally, they turned to me, their voices shaky and unable to form complete sentences.

"Mom… this… what’s going on?"