Chapter 3

My mom confessed to the murders without hesitation:

"As for how many? I’ve lost count. You’ll have to figure that out yourselves. Don’t you guys have DNA testing for that?"

Of course they did, but the sheer complexity of the evidence was a nightmare for the forensic team.

That pot of her famous braising sauce? It was a stew of chaos—filled with an endless list of ingredients: star anise, dried orange peel, rock sugar, fennel, cardamom... even the cuts of meat were carefully chosen—lean meat here, belly fat there.

I watched as my mom, her hands cuffed, was pushed into the back of a police car. Before the door could close, a woman burst through the crowd and started clawing and kicking at her, screaming hysterically, "Where’s my son, Laura Sullivan?! Give me back my son!"

It was my dad’s second wife, Ava.

The onlookers started murmuring:

"Didn’t her stepson go missing recently too? Could it be her doing? God, this woman’s a monster. No wonder her husband ditched her!"

"Laura Sullivan, if you so much as touched a hair on my son’s head, I’ll kill you!" my dad yelled, red-faced and trembling with rage.

Bruised and bloodied from the scuffle, my mom simply smiled coldly. "Look at you two. Looks like karma finally came knocking."

After I disappeared, my mom had been forced to call my dad to ask for help. His response?

"Your daughter’s missing? Isn’t that your responsibility? Don’t bother me with this nonsense."

Now, as both my dad and Ava stood there, desperate and panicked, my mom blinked innocently and said, "I really don’t know where Shane is. I sell so many buns every day, you know?"

Her business was booming. Customers lined up outside her small shop from morning till night, the tables always full, the steamers constantly empty.

She tilted her head, her lips curling into a smirk.

"If you’re gonna ask, maybe you should be asking the people who eat here."

The room fell silent. Even the officers, who had been holding Ava back, froze mid-action. My dad and Ava stared at her, their faces pale, before collapsing helplessly to the floor.

I couldn’t help but enjoy the way they looked—completely shattered.

Ava begged my mom like a dog. It reminded me of the time I begged her not to destroy my family. Back then, she’d kicked me to the ground and sneered,

"Stupid brat. Get lost with your mom!"