This couldn’t go on any longer.
They had already completely fallen out with the Kale family.
And with supplies running low, if they still had to share with them, there would be even less left for themselves.
Margaret shot Jack a look, her tone firm and unquestionable. "Go find so rope. Tie them up."
Jack understood instantly. A vicious glint flashed in his eyes.
Patrick trembled slightly, reluctance written across his face.
But under Margaret’s gaze, he couldn’t resist. In the end, he moved.
Very quickly, the unconscious George and Fiona were bound tightly—hands and feet secured with rope, tied so firmly there was no chance of escape.
Margaret glanced at the couple lying on the floor like lifeless dogs. Unable to hold back, she stepped forward and kicked Fiona hard.
"Shaless bitch—ptui!"
She spat directly onto Fiona’s face.
Just thinking about how that wretched woman had slept with her precious son filled her with uncontrollable rage.
Fiona let out a faint, unconscious groan.
Margaret turned away, her voice cold. "There’s still Tommy. We can’t leave him either."
Tommy was a ticking ti bomb.
Now that they had already attacked his parents, what if he ca to his senses later and tried to take revenge?
If they were going to act, they had to eliminate all of them.
The Sanders family moved as one. Following Margaret’s command, Vanessa didn’t hesitate—she struck Tommy, knocking him unconscious before he could even react.
His body went limp, collapsing to the ground.
Vanessa tossed aside the table lamp in her hand with a cold laugh. "Did you really think I’d fall for a useless man like you?"
All her previous gentleness had been nothing more than an act.
If Tommy hadn’t been useful to her, she would never have bothered with him.
And just like that, the rightful owners of the villa—the Kale family of three—were locked away in a storage room on the first floor.
"What do we do next?" Jack asked, turning to his wife.
She let out a cold snort. "Obviously—we kill them."
A flicker of hesitation crossed Jack’s face. "Do we really have to go that far?"
Margaret shot him a sharp look. "We’ve already torn things apart. Do you think if we let them go, we’ll survive?"
Jack thought it over—and knew she was right.
Order had already collapsed. Even if the Kales killed them, there would be no consequences.
In that kind of world... would the Kales spare them?
Patrick, who had been silent the whole ti, finally spoke in a small, hesitant voice:
"Mom... do we really have to be this cruel...?"
Despite everything, he couldn’t completely harden his heart toward Fiona.
After all... she had once been his woman.
Margaret shot him a glare—and slapped him hard across the face. "Shut up!"
At this point, she felt like strangling her own son.
Of all people, he had to get involved with that woman.
And now he still dared to plead for her?
Dream on.
"So... do we do it now?" Jack asked, cracking his knuckles.
He had never been one for hesitation. He wouldn’t mind finishing it imdiately.
Margaret looked at the three unconscious figures.
George and Fiona had been beaten unconscious. Tommy had been knocked out by Vanessa. All three lay sprawled on the ground, motionless.
After a mont of thought, she said, "No. Leave them for now. We’ll deal with them tomorrow."
The fight had drained their strength. It was already deep into the night—they were exhausted.
More importantly... Margaret had never actually killed anyone before.
Though she wanted them dead, there was still a psychological barrier she couldn’t imdiately cross.
She needed ti.
Jack seed to understand. "Then let’s get so rest first. They’re tied up tight—they won’t be going anywhere."
They were bound like dumplings, the knots tied so tightly that escape was nearly impossible—unless they had sothing sharp.
And in the storage room, there was nothing but cleaning tools. No blades, no sharp edges.
Their chances of escape were close to zero.
Margaret nodded.
Jack added, more gently, "Want to make you sothing to eat? You didn’t get enough earlier, did you?"
At that, Margaret felt the hunger in her stomach.
"Go ahead," she said.
Earlier that evening, Fiona had been unusually stingy with dinner, leaving the Sanders family half-starved. That was why they had gone looking for food in the middle of the night—and ended up being discovered by George.
Jack went into the kitchen, boiling noodles and taking out a few cans from storage to heat up—just a simple late-night al.
anwhile, his wife stayed in the storage room, keeping watch over the Kale family.
Her sharp eyes swept across every inch of the space, eliminating any possible risk.
She cleared out all the scattered items, removing anything that could be used as a tool.
Soon, the storage room was completely bare.
Now, even the slightest chance of escape was gone.
Patrick sat alone in the living room, staring blankly out the window.
The storm raged on.
Rain pounded relentlessly, and lightning split across the sky with terrifying force, as if it might tear the heavens apart.
The roar of the storm masked Vanessa’s footsteps.
By the ti Patrick noticed, she was already sitting beside him.
Sensing her presence, he turned. "Sis... when did you co over?"
Vanessa looked at him steadily, her expression unreadable.
Patrick had always been good-looking—fair-skinned, clean-cut, the kind of boy girls at school adored.
She stared at him in silence.
A strange pressure began to build.
He reached out, tugging lightly at her hand. "Sis...?"
Before he could finish—
Smack.
Her hand struck his face.
The sharp sound was swallowed by the roar of the rain.
Patrick clutched his cheek, staring at her in shock.
Vanessa only looked at him coldly, disappointnt heavy in her eyes.
"Do you want to ask why I hit you?" she said calmly.
Patrick swallowed. "Sis... why did you hit ?"
"Why?" Her voice was icy. "Don’t you know? Patrick—why did you get involved with that old woman?"
The "old woman" she referred to was Fiona.
Just like Margaret, she couldn’t accept it.
A cold smile tugged at her lips, sothing almost unhinged flickering in her eyes. "What does she have that I don’t? Tell —is it because she’s more seductive?"
Patrick was stunned.
It was the first ti he had ever heard his sister speak like this.
"I... I..." he stamred, unable to form a single coherent sentence.
Even he didn’t understand how things had ended up like that.
By the ti he realized what was happening, they had already crossed the line.
It had started one night, when he went downstairs looking for sothing to eat, and found Fiona in the living room, dressed in a thin, gauzy nightgown.
It was late. She hadn’t expected anyone else to be there.
And neither of them had been prepared for what followed.
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