"Pack your things. Take him and get the hell out. If you're still here when I get back, I'm calling the police."

I hurled the warning at them before storming out, unable to stand the sight of them a second longer.

By afternoon, the morning's chaos felt like a bad dream. Sitting at my desk, I pulled up the home security feed, expecting an empty house.

Instead, rage clawed at my throat.

Violet and Isaac hadn't left. They'd multiplied.

My living room was packed—at least eight strangers crowded around my custom mahogany dining table, treating my home like a banquet hall. They gorged on my food, shouting over one another.

"You've hit the jackpot, Violet," a woman cackled, spraying crumbs. "This place must be worth millions."

"Tell me about it," another chimed in. "I snooped in the walk-in closet—you should see the jewelry. None of it looks cheap."

"I heard she started her own company. She must pull in a fortune every year."

Violet sat at the head of the table, preening under their flattery.

"She makes decent money, I'll give her that." She waved dismissively. "But her temper? Terrible. Young and naive. I'll have my work cut out for me, teaching her how to behave."

Isaac grabbed a fistful of meat and shoved it into his mouth, grease coating his chin. Food debris flew as he spoke.

"Don't worry, Mom. I know how to train a woman." He chewed noisily, eyes gleaming. "She's just flighty because she's unmarried. Once she's my wife, I'll break those bad habits. I have plenty of ways to deal with a disobedient woman."

The relatives cheered.

"Exactly! Just wait until you're living the good life, Violet. Isaac is such a filial son."

"Once they give you a big fat grandson, your life will be complete."

"Don't forget us poor relations when you're rich, Isaac! We're counting on you."

I couldn't watch another second. My fingers trembled as I dialed the police to report a break-in, then ordered my driver to speed back.

On the way, I forced myself to check the feed again.

Empty liquor bottles littered the floor. The relatives were pouring yet another round for Isaac.

"Isaac, you need to tighten the leash," an older man slurred. "Look at the time. A good wife should be home by now."

"Yeah, that won't fly," someone agreed. "Back in our village, no woman would dare stay out this late with guests in the house. She doesn't even know how to entertain properly."

"So what if she makes money? Men are the sky. The husband is the law."

Isaac let out a long, wet belch, face flushed.

"Don't worry, Uncle. I know what I'm doing." He leaned back, pleased with himself. "I heard her on the phone earlier—some client meeting. Dressed up like a whore just to go out."

He slammed his glass down. "When we're married, I'll handle the business. She can stay home, serve my mom, and raise the kids. I'll hire all you cousins to run the company. We're family. If I make it big, I won't forget you."

My nails dug into my palms, piercing skin. I focused on the pain to keep from screaming.

"Miss Swanson, we're here."

I didn't wait for him to open the door. I yanked it open and stormed toward the entrance.

The reality was worse than the video.

Muddy footprints tracked across the cream carpet and stained the sofas. My porcelain figurines lay shattered across the living room floor.

Empty snack bags and liquor bottles littered the floor. Had it not been for the familiar layout, I would have sworn I'd walked into the wrong apartment.

But a second later, a far more terrifying realization hit me.

Usually, the moment the lock clicked, Mochi would come barreling toward me, her massive tail wagging like a metronome. At over a hundred pounds, her enthusiastic greetings nearly knocked me over every single day.

Today, the apartment was filled with the raucous noise of strangers. But the one sound that mattered—Mochi's bark—was absent.

Dread pooled in my stomach. I didn't dare let the thought fully form. I rushed past the mess to the balcony.

The doghouse was empty.

I stood there, frozen, my mind struggling to process the void.

Isaac, his eyes glazed from alcohol, pointed a thick finger at me from the living room.

"What are you staring at? Can't you see we have guests? Get over here and greet your elders!" he slurred. "Honestly, woman—don't you know the basics of hospitality?"

Violet bustled over, grabbing my arm to drag me toward the dining table.

"Zoey, you're back! You must be exhausted. Hurry, wash your hands and eat," she said, her voice dripping with feigned warmth. "These are my relatives from back home. Isaac saved you the best parts—he was worried you'd be hungry."

I ripped my arm from her grip. My finger trembled as I pointed toward the empty balcony.

"Where is Mochi?"

Violet hesitated, her gaze shifting away.

"Why are you asking about that? It's just a beast. Come on, sit down and eat..."

I took a step back, my voice rising to a scream. "I asked you a question! Where is Mochi?"

Hot tears spilled over before I could stop them.

Violet flinched at my outburst, standing silent and awkward.

Isaac wasn't having it. He stumbled forward, face twisted in a scowl, and slapped me hard enough to snap my head back.

"Watch your tone with my mother! Are you deaf? Did you not hear what I told you this morning?"

He gestured at the table. "We stewed the damn dog. Do you know how much that thing ate? I've never seen a woman waste money like you. It's freezing outside, so a hot pot is exactly what we needed. Consider it the beast's final contribution to the family!"

He scoffed, wiping his nose. "It's just a dog, and you're screaming at my mom over it? You're insane."

A high-pitched ringing filled my ears. His voice faded to a dull murmur.

Ignoring the stinging pain in my cheek, I stumbled into the kitchen.

The large trash can overflowed with familiar reddish-brown fur. Blood smeared the stainless steel sink, stark against the metal.

Then I saw it.

In the corner, Mochi's severed head sat on the floor. Her eyes were wide open, glassy, as if she were still waiting for me to come home.

Something inside me snapped.

I stormed back into the dining room. With a guttural scream, I hooked my fingers under the heavy table and heaved.

Dishes, soup, and chopsticks crashed to the floor in a chaotic explosion.

Two children shrieked in terror.

I was shaking so hard my teeth chattered, my voice a hoarse rasp.

"This is murder! I will make every single one of you pay!"

Violet's relatives scrambled back, circling Isaac and eyeing me with a mix of fear and disdain.

"Isaac, you really need to control your woman. Look at this mess!" one sneered.

"A shrew like this is a curse," another added, shaking his head. "If you don't teach her a lesson now, she'll walk all over you for life."

Humiliated, Isaac's face turned the color of raw liver. He lunged at me, his fist connecting with my jaw, sending me crashing to the floor.

"Are you insane? Look at the child! You've terrified him!"

"Who gave you the nerve to act like this?"

"I'm going to teach you how to be a proper wife today!"

Isaac Whitney was a mountain of a man—over two hundred pounds of aggression and entitlement. His fists came down hard, relentless. For a moment, I crumbled under the assault, unable to defend myself against the sheer weight of his violence.

The relatives cheered from the sidelines like spectators at a bloodsport.

"Get her, Isaac! Teach her a lesson!"

"Women need a firm hand. If you don't beat them, they don't listen. Look at this mess—all that good food wasted!"

"That's my boy! Don't let her walk all over your mother!"

After a flurry of blows, the alcohol caught up with him. He staggered back, chest heaving, energy spent.

I forced myself up through the pain. My body screamed in protest, but adrenaline kept me standing. I wiped blood from my lip and scanned the dining room, a cold smirk touching my face.

"Nobody leaves." My voice was steady despite the trembling in my limbs. "The police are on their way. I'll see every single one of you behind bars."