Chapter 4

Because Caroline violated people’s privacy by secretly filming and distributing obscene videos, she was sentenced to 15 days of administrative detention and fined $5,00.

When my mom heard about it, she threw a fit, insisting on leaving the hospital to check on Caroline.

“It’s raining out there! What if she gets cold?”

“The food in jail is awful and has no nutrition! How is she supposed to survive?”

“This is all your fault, you ungrateful brat! Why did you push me out the door?”

“My poor, sweet Caroline. She’s suffering because of you!”

I turned around and tossed the takeout box I had been holding straight into the trash. She didn’t deserve it.

My mom was bedridden, powerless to do anything herself, but Caroline’s “hobby” had become the talk of the town. In her twisted logic, she blamed me for everything—claiming that I had ruined her precious unborn grandson’s reputation before he even had a chance to be born.

And to “restore” that reputation? She did something unthinkable.

She used my name to write a fake confession and posted it all over social media.

“Dear friends and family, I’m Emily Watts, and I’m here to confess my sins. It was me who secretly filmed those videos, not my sister-in-law. She only took the blame to protect me. I’ve let my mom down. I’ve let my family down. Most of all, I’ve let my unborn nephew down. Please don’t blame Caroline. Blame me.”

She followed it up with ten similar posts, tagging every family member and friend she could think of. Then she forwarded it to group chats, ensuring maximum exposure.

My phone wouldn’t stop buzzing. Call after call came in, all asking the same thing: “Is it true?”

Furious, I stormed into her hospital room, fists clenched, demanding an explanation.

Her response? Calm. Matter-of-fact.

“Our family’s future depends on my grandson. As his aunt, this is the least you can do.”

When Caroline was released from detention, my mom insisted on checking herself out of the hospital to take care of her.

Honestly, Caroline should count herself lucky. Having a mother-in-law like mine is like winning the lottery—if the lottery rewarded you with blind devotion and endless enabling.

The moment Caroline stepped through the door, she burst into tears, sobbing about the “horrors” of jail. My mom, of course, was right there with her, dabbing at her own tears like they were the stars of a tragic soap opera.

“Don’t cry, sweetheart,” my mom cooed. “Your suffering is over now.”

The sight of the two of them together made me want to throw up.

Caroline, through her crocodile tears, began spinning a new story.

“Mom, I don’t need the houses anymore. Just give them to Emily. If I keep them, she’ll keep causing trouble for me and the baby. Who knows what she’ll do next?”

She sniffled dramatically. “I’m scared, Mom. What if she hurts us? What if she hurts the baby?”

Her little act worked. My mom’s face twisted with rage.

“She dares to touch my grandson? I’ll kill her first!”

Hearing this, I decided to play along. I walked out of the kitchen, head lowered, pretending to be remorseful.

“Mom, Caroline, I’m so sorry. I was wrong. I’ll never do anything to upset you again.”

Caroline shot me a triumphant, venomous glare.

But I wasn’t done yet.

The drama died down for a while, but it didn’t take long for Caroline to go back to her old habits.

This time, she secretly filmed someone having an affair and used the footage to blackmail them.

The woman in the video paid her off to keep things quiet, but the man wasn’t as forgiving.

One evening, on my way back from the store, someone grabbed me from behind, covering my mouth and nose. I was dragged into a dark alley.

“Not bad,” the man sneered. “Didn’t realize you’d be this hot.”

I struggled with all my strength, but he slapped me hard across the face. My head buzzed, my cheek stinging from the impact.

“Stop fighting, you little bitch,” he growled. “Like spying on people, huh? Let me give you a show you’ll never forget.”

Something inside me snapped.

I stopped struggling and went limp. Then, slowly, I wrapped my arms around his shoulders.

“Fine,” I whispered. “But don’t you think we should go somewhere more private?”

My sudden compliance caught him off guard. He froze, his grip loosening ever so slightly.

Taking advantage of his hesitation, I stood up, removed my coat, and smiled coldly.

“Do you know why I secretly film people?” I asked, my voice calm, almost conversational. “Because I have a condition. It’s the only thing that makes me feel alive.”

The man’s face twisted in disgust. Swearing under his breath, he yanked up his pants and stormed off.

As soon as he disappeared, I pulled out a tissue, carefully wrapped the skin and hairs I’d scratched from his neck, and headed straight for the police station.

The alley was too dark to identify him, but the DNA evidence would be enough to track him down.

That night, a kind police officer drove me home. It was nearly midnight when we arrived.

My mom opened the door, her face sour as she started to scold me.

“You ungrateful brat! Took you long enough to—”

Her words died in her throat the moment she saw the officer behind me. Fear flickered in her eyes, but she quickly replaced it with fake concern.

“Oh, Emily! What happened to you? Why didn’t you call me? I was so worried!”

But as soon as the officer left, her mask slipped.

“You got assaulted buying groceries?” she sneered. “Honestly, you deserve it. Serves you right.”

Caroline, sitting at the table, smirked at me.

“Come on, Emily,” she said mockingly. “Join us for a midnight snack.”

My mom shot her a look of exaggerated concern. “She doesn’t deserve to sit with us. Caroline, sweetheart, you eat. Don’t let my grandson go hungry.”

I stood there in the living room, silently watching them, hatred burning in my eyes.

Caroline wanted the houses. My mom wanted her grandson.

Fine.

If this is what they wanted most, then that’s exactly what I’d destroy.