On the day SAT results came out, my husband drove nails all over our daughter Joyce Barnes's body and locked her in the garage.

All because I slapped the college girl he was keeping.

He hammered five hundred nails into Joyce.

"Nails the length of a finger sank deep into her flesh.

In the video, her screams grew so raw they bled, yet he didn't hesitate for a second."

My vision went red. I lunged at him, hitting and cursing. "You monster! She's your own daughter! How can you be this cruel?"

He gripped my throat, smiling with a gentleness that was somehow even more vicious.

"Five finger marks on Kat's face mean five hundred nails in your daughter's body. Perfectly fair, isn't it? If Kat so much as sheds one tear from pain, I'll make sure you two understand what true agony feels like."

Then, Joseph Barnes hurled a key at my face.

"Go on. If you hurry, you might still catch her last breath."

I snatched the key and stumbled toward the garage, half crawling, half running. But when I got there, all I saw was red—sharp, blinding red that swallowed everything.

***

Joyce Barnes was nailed to a wooden board in the shape of an X, the floor beneath her soaked through with blood.

Right over her chest was a nail as thick as my finger.

The thought that she was going to die from the pain alone made my knees give out. I collapsed on the cold concrete, my voice breaking. "Joyce..."

She heard me.

Her pale face turned toward me, and, as if afraid I would worry, she forced out broken words to comfort me. "Mom... don't cry... It doesn't hurt..."

My chest felt like it was being ripped apart. I crawled to her feet, wanting to touch her, but my hands froze in midair.

The 500 nails were packed so close together that they covered her arms, legs, and torso.

Her small, still-developing body was riddled with holes, blood seeping from every one.

I stared, my fingers clawing at the ground until my nails broke and blood smeared the floor, just to keep myself from breaking down completely.

Wiping my tears, I forced the tremor from my voice. "Joyce, don't be scared. I'm going to get you out of here."

I fumbled for my phone, but before I could call, a deafening clang came from behind me—the garage door was rolling shut.

My heart lurched. I bolted toward it, pounding on the metal with all my strength.

"Open the door! Let Joyce go! Whatever you want, I'll agree—just let her out!"

Outside, a few men laughed coarsely.

"Open the door? Not a chance. You two can die in there."

The word "die" froze my blood. I turned back to see Joyce's face, already pale and struggling for breath.

Tears streamed down my cheeks as I dropped to my knees before the door.

"Take me! I'll die! Just let Joyce go..."

My broken screams echoed in the suffocating space, but no one answered.

"Mom... Mom..."

Her voice was weak, fraying, as if she was about to fade away.

I quickly wiped my face, flipping open my phone with trembling hands. "Sweetheart, I'm going to save you. I promise."

"Mom... I... I can't hold on."

She drew a shallow breath, then spoke again. "When... you get my SAT scores... give them... to Dad... maybe... he'll like them..."

It was as if she had finished what she needed to say. The moment those words left her lips, her limbs and head went limp.

"Joyce!" My scream tore through the air.

Right then, someone finally picked up the call. I shouted into the phone, "I'm at the garage in Wynners Villa! Please help us! Please!"

After getting the exact address, they promised they would come as fast as they could.

I clutched the phone and broke down, sobbing so hard I could barely breathe.

I fought back tears as I called Joseph, my voice breaking into desperate pleading. "I'm begging you—if you send someone to save our daughter, I'll give you what you want! I don't need the money or the property, I just want Joyce to live!"

He paused for a moment, and for once, there was an edge of urgency in his voice. "What nonsense are you talking about? Everything in the garage is just for show—"

I didn't wait to hear the rest. Staring at Joyce's bloodless face, I was about to push him when another voice broke in, sugary and mocking. "Joe, maybe you should head back. I can't believe she's using her own daughter's life to trick you," Katherine Fletcher cooed.

"I'm not—"

"Enough!" Joseph cut off my explanation with an icy snarl, his voice colder than frost. "Samantha, you've really grown bold! How dare you curse your daughter just to get me to come back? What's next—are you going to tell me there's an urn and a funeral waiting? Not only have you gotten old, but your brain's gone soft, too!"

With a click, the line went dead, severing the last shred of hope I had.

I held Joyce's stiffening hand, forcing myself not to fall apart. I didn't have time for grief.

I quickly called the property office. When I bought this garage, they had kept a spare key.

"Hello," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'm the owner of the garage at Building 808. I locked myself inside. Please come open the door."

There was some muffled discussion on the other end before someone replied, "Mrs. Barnes, that property is no longer under your name. Without authorization from the current owner, we can't open the door."

My body swayed. "What do you mean?"

"The property, including the garage, was transferred to Ms. Fletcher last month by Mr. Barnes..."

I didn't hear the rest.

A crushing wave of helplessness swallowed me whole. My phone slipped from my hand and clattered to the floor as my legs gave out.

I collapsed, my fingers brushing the sticky, dried blood under Joyce's body. This time, I couldn't hold back. The sobs ripped through me.

Through blurred vision, I saw her pale face, eyes half-open—still unwilling to close.

I crawled over and gently shut her eyelids with shaking hands. Tears streamed down my face as I wept over her lifeless body.

Just then, my phone rang sharply. Thinking it was the ambulance, I hurried to answer.

"Samantha, can't you talk to Joseph about lending our family three million? We're in a tight spot."

For the first time, I cut my mother off mid-sentence. My voice was barely a whisper. "Joyce's gone..."

"What?"

I raised my voice, forcing the words past my grief. "I said Joyce is dead!"

There was a pause, then she continued as if I had said nothing. "If she's gone, you can have another. This is your fault. If you had given Joseph a son, would he treat you like this? So what if he has mistresses—just let him be! What's the point of making a fuss—"

I hung up and closed my eyes.

That was my mother—the woman who raised me. Upon hearing that her granddaughter had died, all she could do was tell me to have another.

And the man I had loved for over a decade, the man Joyce had called "Dad" all her life, had her tortured to death because of a slap to his secretary.

A laugh burst from my throat—wild, broken, bordering on madness.

Then, from outside the door, came a shout. "Ms. Wallace, are you still in there?"

My eyes went wide. I rushed to the door, pounding on the metal. "Help! Please!"

They broke the lock with heavy tools, forcing the door open.

The moment they saw Joyce's body, their expressions shifted from urgency to horror.

It took a long moment before their leader found his voice. "Take her and the wooden board back."

They surged forward, carefully lifting Joyce into the waiting vehicle.

I followed closely behind, not leaving her side for even a step.

Now and then, people in the crowd watching from a distance muttered in outrage.

"What kind of monster could do something like this? Nailing such a young girl inside a garage... If her father found out, he would tear the culprit apart!"

My heart felt like it was being crushed and squeezed in every direction, the pain stealing my voice.

No one knew that the man who nailed Joyce inside was my husband—her own father.

The truth was, the first few years of our marriage weren't bad at all.

No matter how late he got off work, he would stop by the flower shop to bring me a bouquet of white roses.

If he passed the mousse cake shop, he would pick up a chocolate cake with a molten center for Joyce.

Ours wasn't the kind of cold, polite marriage one often saw in arranged unions—we actually had the warmth of an ordinary couple.

And maybe that was why, when he started cheating, I couldn't bear it.

At first, it was just business dinners, then secretaries and flings on the side.

Whenever I confronted him, he would laugh and say, "After over a decade of seeing you every day, of course, I get bored. You have to let me have some fun once in a while."

When I complained to my mother, she dismissed me with impatience. "In families like ours, which man doesn't have a few women on the side? The real problem is you! You're useless! You can't even give him another daughter to tie his heart to. If he has one mistress, you tolerate it. If he has two, you tolerate both. That's how you show generosity!"

So I forced myself to accept it, turning a blind eye.

His lovers came and went like revolving doors, and for a while, we stayed in uneasy peace.

That was until Katherine showed up.

She had the nerve to harass Joyce directly, even blocking her from entering the exam hall on her SAT day.

I'd had enough—I slapped her across the face.

But Joseph refused to hear any explanation. He took Joyce and locked her in the garage without anyone noticing it.

The blare of a car horn jolted me out of my thoughts.

The car sped through the streets until we reached the hospital, only to be stopped at the entrance.

The driver kept leaning on the horn, but the bodyguards blocking the way didn't move an inch.

"Everyone else will have to wait," one of them announced. "Mr. Barnes is inside with his girlfriend for her prenatal checkup. Once they're done, I'll let you through."

I jumped out of the car and strode toward Reuben Baker. "Let us in!"

He froze when he saw me, panic flashing in his eyes, but still tried to hold his ground. "Mrs. Barnes, this is Mr. Barnes's order. There's nothing I can do. Why don't you give him a call?"

My nails dug so deeply into my palms that they nearly broke skin, but looking at Joyce's ashen face, I had no choice.

I dialed his number.

This time, he didn't even let me speak before lashing out. "Samantha, do you ever stop? Don't tell me you're about to say Joyce's dying again! You probably found out I'm with Kat for her checkup, so you're pulling this stunt to ruin it, right? Let me tell you—if she's dead, all the better! Kat's carrying my heir anyway!"

Hearing that, I had no idea what else I could say.

My hands were shaking so badly I could barely hold the phone. I tried to soften my voice, pleading, "Can you just let me in for a moment? I won't get in your way."

He hesitated.

Then, I heard Katherine's saccharine voice in the background. "Joe, let her in. I know she didn't mean to slap me last time..."

Something in him must have clicked, because his tone dropped several degrees colder. "Oh, so you want to come in here and make a scene? Not happening! You'd better die out there and save Kat the trouble!"

The call was on speakerphone, so every doctor and nurse nearby heard every word.

They erupted in anger, surrounding the phone and scolding, "I've never seen a man like you—you lock your daughter out to die while you're with your mistress for a prenatal checkup? Calling you an animal is an insult to animals!"

"You people are so vicious, the child you give birth to will probably be born without an anus!"

The doctor spat out the words, then slammed the ambulance door shut.

He exchanged a glance with the driver, stepped on the gas, and the vehicle shot forward.

As we passed through the hospital lobby, I saw Joseph holding Katherine as if she were made of fragile, cradling her with the tenderness reserved for priceless treasures. His gaze was filled with warmth, nothing like the cold, hostile glare he reserved for me. The difference was night and day.

I thought I would feel hurt, that I would ache inside, or even cry. But Joyce's ordeal had drained every last bit of strength from me. I barely glanced their way before turning my eyes aside, as though they were strangers.

Five minutes after Joyce was wheeled into the operating room, the lead surgeon walked out, shaking his head. "Ms. Wallace, there's no point fighting it anymore. You should start preparing for the worst."

I froze in place. My lips trembled for a long moment before I managed to stammer, "Doctor, please, save her! I'll get down on my knees if I have to!"

He caught me before I could fall, his face clouded with pity. "It's not that I don't want to save her. Her body is already stiff."

His next words felt like a blade slicing through my chest. "The nail in her chest pierced straight through her heart. She was literally tortured to death."

My legs gave out completely. I wanted to cry, but no tears came.

Then, a voice sounded behind me. "I know an international specialist. I can save her."

It was Katherine. The sight of her made my blood boil, and I wanted nothing more than to tear her apart with my bare hands. But she said she could save Joyce...

"What do you want in return?" I asked through clenched teeth.

Her lips curved into a strange smile. "Let me handle her first. Then, you can thank me later."

I didn't believe she had an ounce of goodwill. But I had no other choice—only a desperate hope to cling to.

That afternoon, two men, introduced as top international specialists, walked into the operating room.

I tried to follow, but Katherine blocked the doorway with an outstretched arm. "They said if you go in, you'll just get in their way."

I stared at the tightly closed door and forced myself to wait, my stomach twisting with anxiety.

Minute after minute crawled by.

Suddenly, a nurse came running toward me, her face ghostly pale. She said, "Ms. Wallace, she lied to you. They're not trying to save your daughter at all—"

"What do you mean?!" I grabbed her by the arm.

Panting, she blurted, "I saw it on the security feed. They poured acid over your daughter's body. Her entire upper half is gone."

A deafening roar filled my head. My vision swam, and I nearly collapsed.

Just then, the operating room door swung open. I shoved past the men and rushed inside.

The sight before me knocked the air from my lungs. My knees buckled, and I dropped to the floor.

A flood of red filled my vision. Joyce's upper body was nothing but a pool of cloudy blood, long nails scattered and submerged in the mess.

"Katherine!" My eyes burned, my vision blurred with rage. I stormed out, grabbed her by the hair, and yanked with all my strength.

"Ah!" she screamed.

I didn't hear her. I slammed her head against the wall again and again, the dull thuds echoing through the hallway.

White tiles bloomed with splashes of red.

"You bitch! You lunatic!" she shrieked in pain.

The next second, someone's foot slammed into me. I was sent sprawling, my head smacking against the railing, the world ringing in my ears.

I looked up to find Joseph's eyes bloodshot with fury. He pulled Katherine into his arms, holding her tight, and jabbed a finger at me. "How dare you!"

I wiped the blood from my face, my legs trembling as I struggled to stand. Tears spilled into my mouth, and my throat felt like it had been slit open.

"Joseph! Why wouldn't I dare? Your daughter's body was dissolved by your mistress—using acid!"

Joseph's first reaction was to frown. He looked at me like I had lost my mind.

He didn't even bother speaking to me and instead addressed the bodyguards around him.

"Hold her down!"

With Katherine in his arms, he slowly walked over, his sharp gaze sweeping over my blood-streaked face with pure disgust.

"Samantha, are you done with this act? The nails in the garage were fake; the footage was something I had someone edit. Joyce just called me, saying she went to check her exam results. If you wanted to trick me into coming home, you didn't need to resort to something this revolting!"

I stared at him, then suddenly burst out laughing.

And then, mid-laugh, I spit a mouthful of bloody saliva right at his face.

"Samantha!"

Joseph staggered back in shock and fury, frantically pulling a handkerchief from his pocket to wipe his face clean.

I shot him a cold, mocking smile. "Joseph, you're going to regret this. I'll be waiting for the day you cry."

The veins on his forehead bulged as he struggled to contain his rage. "Take her home. No one is to let her out without my orders!"

The men obeyed, dragging me away.

I tilted my head back and laughed wildly. "Joseph, you're an animal! You'll get what's coming to you!"

He froze for a moment, as if my deranged state had rattled him.

In all the years we had been married—even the first time I caught him cheating and keeping a mistress—I had never acted like this.

The thought crept in, unsettling him more than he wanted to admit.

Behind him, the wind slammed the operating room door with a bang.

A sudden urge told him to go in and take a look.

But before he could move, Katherine let out a sharp cry. "Joe, my stomach hurts... Do you think something's wrong with the baby?"

The word "baby" was enough to make him panic. He quickly scooped her up and rushed her into the emergency room.

By the time he finally got Katherine to sleep, Reuben came rushing in.

"Mr. Barnes, the school principal has been trying to reach you. When he couldn't, he called me instead..."

He handed over the phone.

Joseph arched a brow, puzzled as to why Joyce's principal would be calling him, but he still answered.

"Mr. Barnes, congratulations! Joyce scored the highest in New York on the SAT. That's no small feat!"

"Really?"

A faint smile tugged at his lips, and even his voice carried a note of excitement.

"Of course! 1500 points—every bit of it earned. She should be home by now. Didn't you see the announcement?"

His smile faltered, hesitation creeping in. "She's probably with her classmates. She hasn't come home yet."

They exchanged a few more words before he hung up, immediately turning to his secretary. "Find out where Joyce is and bring her to me."

Reuben left at once.

But a full day and night passed without any news.

The next morning, Joseph's frown deepened as he stared at the empty house. He snapped at Reuben, "How does a full-grown woman just disappear? Why do you still have no leads?"

Reuben kept his head low, trembling. "Mr. Barnes, we haven't found her, but we did find footage from right before Ms. Barnes went missing."

In the video, Joyce was being dragged away by several men in black and forced into Garage 808.

Joseph felt his blood run cold.

His voice trembled as he asked, "Where... did you find this?"

Reuben's head sank even lower. "The footage came from the surveillance at Wynners Villa."

Before he even finished speaking, Joseph staggered back, nearly collapsing to his knees.

Clutching the banister for support, he forced himself upright. "W-where's Joyce?"