Back in our corner of the Rust Belt, my parents and I were the undisputed bosses of the neighborhood. When I was a kid, a corrupt county commissioner tried to seize our family land. My dad didn't even flinch—he marched into the man's office and ruthlessly stabbed himself in the thigh three times, terrifying the commissioner so badly he confessed to everything and earned himself three years eating federal prison food. When I was in high school, my guaranteed university scholarship was given to a wealthy donor’s kid. My mom didn't just complain; she contacted every investigative journalist in the state and sparked a media firestorm that got the nepotism kid expelled and the administration fired. As for me, I grew up being called the "Detroit Firecracker." I fought my way through school, undefeated against any bully who crossed my path. Over time, our family built a reputation. No one dared to mess with the Vances. That was, until I married into an old-money, Ivy League academic family and tucked away all my sharp edges. I wanted to be a good, gentle wife to my husband. However, in the third month of my marriage, my sister-in-law was beaten by her husband’s family so badly she suffered a miscarriage. My mother-in-law and my husband rushed over to save her. One came back missing a tooth, and the other came back sobbing helplessly. I looked down at the floral apron I was wearing. I took a deep breath. I untied the apron, grabbed my favorite baseball bat, and dialed a familiar number. "Mom, Dad. We got a job to do." 1 The moment my mother-in-law, my husband, and I stepped into the Dawkins house, the silence was suffocating. The atmosphere felt incredibly oppressive. Coats were hanging in the entryway. A man’s heavy jacket, an old woman’s cardigan, a strange woman’s cocktail dress... But my sister-in-law’s favorite beige trench coat was nowhere to be seen. I frowned and walked further inside. The sight in the living room made me stop in my tracks. The coffee table was a graveyard of empty beer bottles and overflowing ashtrays. The carpet was filthy, and the trash can was spilling over onto the floor. Piles of dirty laundry were heaped on the sofa, and the dining table was covered in unwashed dishes. "Chloe? You in here, kiddo? Make a sound!" I called out. No answer. I walked straight to the master bedroom. The door was slightly ajar. When I pushed it open, I froze. There wasn't a single trace of Chloe's existence in that room. Her clothes were gone from the closet, replaced entirely by her husband Trevor's things. Even the nightstand only held his phone charger and his electric razor. And most glaringly, the ornate wooden jewelry box she had brought as part of her dowry was missing. I backed out and pushed open the door to the guest bedroom. Instantly, the stale, musty smell of age hit my nose. The bedsheets were a faded, decades-old floral pattern. Clearly, this was her mother-in-law Martha’s room. My mother-in-law, Eleanor, and my husband, Miles, exchanged horrified looks. "Chloe just had a miscarriage. Where could she go all alone?" When Chloe got married, I had come here to help decorate this place. The Dawkins family was broke, but Chloe was so hopelessly in love she insisted on marrying Trevor. Eleanor, having no other choice, paid full cash for this two-bedroom condo so the newlyweds would have a nice place to live. But now, Chloe was in neither the master nor the guest bedroom. My heart climbed into my throat. The anxiety was building. Finally, the only door left was a locked utility closet. I raised my boot and kicked it hard. Bang! The door flew open. When I saw the scene inside, my brain buzzed, and all the blood rushed to my head. Inside the tiny, windowless eighty-square-foot closet was a rusty, narrow metal cot. And most importantly, right in the center of the washed-out bedsheet, there was a massive stain of dried blood. In that instant, my entire body went ice cold. My mind uncontrollably flashed to all those news reports of abusive husbands beating their wives to death. Eleanor saw it, let out a blood-curdling shriek, and threw herself toward the bed. "My poor baby!" Miles stiffened entirely, the boxes of nutritional supplements he was carrying crashing to the floor. I stood paralyzed in the doorway. Truth be told, Chloe and I had never gotten along. She thought I was too brash and not good enough for her sophisticated brother, and I thought she was pretentious, fake, and dramatic. During the two years Miles and I dated, we fought like cats and dogs. If she put cilantro in my food knowing I hated it, I would "accidentally" throw out her takeout. If she tossed my stuffed animal in the dog bed, I’d dump her expensive makeup down the toilet. It wasn't until she moved out to get married that our war finally ended. But no matter how much we fought, I considered Chloe my family. She was a Bennett, which meant she was under my protection. Just as Eleanor was about to pass out from crying, a weak voice came from the front door. "Mom? Miles? Roxy? Is that you?" Chloe stood there, ghostly pale, holding a plastic bag of wilted cabbage, looking completely lost and terrified. I turned and saw that she had lost so much weight she was practically skeletal. She had only been married a few months, yet there were streaks of gray in her hair. I marched over, snatched the bag of groceries from her hand, and threw it on the floor. "Do you have a death wish? You just had a miscarriage and you're out grocery shopping?" Chloe flinched in terror, instinctively shrinking back. "Why... why are you guys here?" I glared at her, furious at her weakness. "Are you only tough when you're at home? You used to fight me to the death, and now you can't even stand up for yourself?" "Look at you, acting like a beaten dog while they walk all over you!" Chloe's tears immediately spilled over, her whole body trembling so hard she couldn't speak. Eleanor rushed over, throwing her arms around Chloe and sobbing loudly. Right then, Chloe's phone rang. The moment she answered, Martha’s ear-piercing screech exploded from the speaker. "Chloe! Did you slow-cook those ribs like I told you? And this house better be spotless!" "We’re almost home! And you haven't paid this month's rent yet. If you don't pay up, I'm having my son throw you out on the street!" I was completely dumbfounded. Didn't my mother-in-law buy this condo? Chloe was sleeping in a closet, and she had to pay rent? Hearing that, I snatched the phone right out of Chloe's hand. "Chloe! Where the hell did you die to? Are you ignoring me?" Martha was still screaming. I put the phone to my mouth and fired back, "Why are you howling at my sister like a rabid dog?" "What’s the matter, did your family graveyard get hit by a mortar shell and blast you out here to wail at us?" The line went dead silent for a few seconds. Then, in disbelief: "You..." "Don't 'you' me," I cut her off. "I'm calling to let you know your worst nightmare has officially arrived to wreck your house!" I hung up the phone with a loud click. A second later, my own phone buzzed. It was a text from my mom: [Baby girl, your dad and I are on our way.] [Hold the fort. We'll be there in five.] 2 My husband Miles just stared at me, completely stunned. Eleanor looked at me through her tears, her eyes wide with terror, acting as if she were meeting her daughter-in-law for the very first time. After all, to marry the Ivy League golden boy, I had spent months playing the role of the sweet, accommodating angel. In the whole family, only Chloe knew my true colors. I ignored them and turned my attention back to Chloe. Pointing at the pathetic, wilted cabbage on the floor, I suppressed my rage. "This is what you eat?" Chloe kept her head down, staying silent. "You just lost your baby, and you go out to buy groceries? And you have to come back, cook for them, and clean this pigsty?" Miles couldn't take it anymore. He stepped forward. "Chloe, have you been hiding this from us the entire time?" "If you hadn't ended up in the hospital, we never would have known you were living in this hell!" Staring at the top of Chloe's head, I took a deep breath. "Head up. Look at me." Chloe slowly raised her head, her eyes swollen completely shut from crying. "You don't sleep in the master bedroom. You don't sleep in the guest room. You sleep in that rusty utility closet?" Her lips trembled. "Sleeping in the closet is one thing," I took a step closer. "You pay them rent every month?" "Anyone looking at this would think this house belonged to your wicked mother-in-law!" Chloe sniffled, her voice as quiet as a mosquito. "Martha said... she worked hard her entire life and never had a house in her name, so..." She trailed off, her voice fading completely. "So you transferred the deed of the condo over to her?" "You absolute idiot of a sister!" I grabbed her by the shoulders, asking her with genuine disbelief: "Were you dropped on your head as a baby? Or did a mule kick you in the brain?" Chloe’s tears flowed like a broken dam. "Roxy, I'm sorry..." She wailed, "I shouldn't have hidden it! I was just terrified you'd all be angry, that you'd be disappointed in me..." Eleanor started weeping all over again. Aside from me, the three of them were just a crying, emotional mess. I took stock of my allied forces. A cowardly sister-in-law, a passive husband, and a mother-in-law who only knew how to cry. It seemed my actual combat effectiveness was the only thing holding the line. My heart began to race with anticipation. This was right up my alley. If the in-laws were acting toxic, well, this daughter-in-law was radioactive. Chloe was still repenting: "Roxy, you didn't laugh at me, you're actually helping me... I used to make your life miserable, I'm such a horrible person..." I cut her off. "Don't flatter yourself. If it weren't for you, marrying into this family would have been boring as hell." Chloe’s crying abruptly stopped, freezing on her face. I grabbed her hand, already shifting gears. "Alright, playtime is over. I'm going to teach you how to handle real business." She looked at me, hiccuping. "What... what real business?" I turned and looked at the mountain of dirty laundry, empty bottles, and cigarette butts on the coffee table. "Go! Smash every single thing they own." "Let that toxic energy out." Chloe's eyes went round as saucers, tears still hanging on her lashes. Eleanor was stunned. "Roxy, we can't..." Miles was equally panicked. "Honey, you need to calm down..." I let go of Chloe's hand and cracked my knuckles. "Calm down? Why would I calm down?" "I, Roxy Vance, married into the Bennett family, and this is the first real piece of business I get to handle." "If I don't let this rage out today, how can I ever call myself the Detroit Firecracker again?" Right as the words left my mouth, a violent banging erupted at the front door. "Chloe! Open the door!" Martha’s booming voice pierced right through the wood. "Is that loudmouth bitch from the phone still in there? Tell her to drag her ass out here right now!" 3 The banging on the door grew louder and more violent. "Chloe! Open up! Haven't had a beating in a few days and you think you can rebel?" Chloe violently flinched. Instinctively, she grabbed me, Eleanor, and Miles, and shoved us toward the utility closet. I was actually getting excited—speak of the devil—but then Chloe slammed the door shut and locked us in from the outside! "Kiddo! What are you doing?!" I yelled, banging on the door. "Roxy, don't come out..." Chloe’s trembling voice came through the wood. "They... they actually hit people. I-I'll go open the door. Just hide..." Her frantic footsteps hurried away. Eleanor lost her mind, pounding desperately on the door. "Chloe! Come back here! Let your mother out!" Miles threw his body against the door to ram it. The frame shook, but the lock held firm. "Don't waste your energy," I said, pulling them both back. I looked down at the lock. Eleanor was stomping her feet in a panic. "Roxy, what do we do?! With her condition, if she takes another beating, it'll kill her!" Miles's eyes were bloodshot. "I’ll break the door down!" "By the time you break it down, your sister will have gone through two rounds of beatings." I pulled a black bobby pin from my hair and crouched in front of the keyhole. Eleanor stared. "Roxy, what are you doing?" "Picking the lock." "You... you know how to pick locks?" "My dad taught me," I said, not looking up. "Before he stabbed himself to frame that county commissioner, he picked the guy's front door lock." I shined my phone light into the keyhole and listened to the chaos outside. "Careful, Mom, the floor is dirty," a young, sickeningly sweet woman’s voice said. "Chloe? Where the hell did you die to?" Martha yelled. "Mom, Trevor, look at her! She's just standing there!" "The trash isn't empty, the house isn't clean, and my ribs aren't cooked!" "Mom, Tiffany, I'm gonna hit the bathroom first. I'll teach this deadbeat a lesson when I get out," a man’s voice—Trevor—grunted. I gritted my teeth, accelerating my movements with the bobby pin. Outside, Martha was scolding again. "I told you to clean! What have you been doing?" "I... I wasn't feeling well today," Chloe’s voice shook. "Not feeling well?" Martha sneered. "You just had a simple miscarriage. Do you think you're a princess?" "Mom, Chloe doesn't look sick to me. Do you think she's faking it?" Tiffany asked innocently. "I really don't feel good..." "Don't feel good? I think your skin is just itching for a beating!" The moment that sentence ended, I heard the heavy thud of a shoe kicking a human body. Eleanor heard it and her legs gave out; she nearly collapsed. Miles caught her, his face ashen. Martha kept cursing. "Stop playing dead! Get up and make dinner!" I bit down hard on my lip, my hand steadying the pin. Finally, with a sharp click, the lock turned. Before Eleanor or Miles could even react, I kicked the door open and charged out. 4 In the living room, Chloe was curled up on the floor, her arms covering her head. Martha stood over her with her hands on her hips, cursing a blue streak. A woman in a red dress—Tiffany—raised her foot, ready to deliver another kick to Chloe's ribs. I crossed the room in three strides and shoved Tiffany hard. Caught off guard, she stumbled back several steps. She looked at Martha, playing the victim. "Mom—" Martha looked me up and down. "You're the bitch who cursed me out on the phone, aren't you?" "Perfect timing. Get on your knees and apologize to me right now!" "Otherwise, I'll make my son divorce this worthless loser!" I couldn't help but look at Chloe. She scrambled up from the floor, pale as a ghost, her hands unconsciously balling into fists. It was obvious she had endured this kind of verbal abuse for a long time, too terrified to fight back. Seeing this, Tiffany let out a mocking laugh and casually brushed her long hair behind her ear. In doing so, she purposefully flashed the sparkling gold bracelets, gold earrings, and gold necklace she was wearing. I narrowed my eyes. Wasn't that Chloe’s dowry jewelry? No wonder I didn't see it in the master bedroom. The Dawkins family had stolen it and given it to the mistress. Seeing the smug look on Tiffany’s face, a surge of pure, adrenaline-fueled excitement ignited in my chest. Ever since my parents and I got famous in our hometown, no one dared to pull this kind of psychotic garbage in front of me. Today, the trash had delivered itself right to my doorstep. I blinked innocently. "I'll take that!" Before Tiffany could process what was happening, I reached out and violently stripped every piece of gold jewelry off her body. I shoved the jewelry into Chloe's stunned hands. Chloe teared up. "Roxy..." "Ahhh!" Tiffany shrieked, grinding her teeth. "You psycho bitch, you robbed my gold!" She lunged at me. I pushed her back with a single finger. Martha clutched her chest, hollering dramatically. "There's no justice! The daughter-in-law brought a gang to commit home invasion!" At that moment, Trevor finally strolled out of the bathroom. Tiffany instantly threw herself into his arms, whining. "Babe, this crazy woman stole my gold!" Trevor looked at me. He clearly didn't take me seriously, even letting out a laugh. "Are you Bennetts lining up to get your asses kicked? Did the rest of your family die out or something?" Hearing that, Eleanor almost stopped breathing. Her husband had passed away early, leaving her to raise Miles and Chloe alone. Now I was here. That comment was designed to stab Eleanor right in the heart. I was just about to verbally obliterate him when my phone buzzed twice. I pulled it out. It was my mom: [Baby girl, your dad and I are downstairs.] [Waiting for the elevator. We'll be there in 30 seconds. Go bold! Mom's got your back.] Seeing me check my phone, Martha thought I was scared. She puffed out her chest proudly. "Chloe married into my family, so she belongs to us! If you try to stop us, I'll have my son beat you too!" I slipped my phone back into my pocket and fired right back: "You crypt-keeper, with one foot already in the grave, your soul is dirtier than a sewer. You better hope your spineless son outlives you, because otherwise nobody is gonna bury your rotting corpse." Martha clutched her chest. "You... you!" I turned to the cheating husband, continuing my barrage. "And you!" "You cowardly piece of garbage, drinking cheap beer and using it as an excuse to beat your wife. You call yourself a man?" "Trash like you is gonna get hit by a bus the second you step outside, and any kid you manage to spawn won't even have a soul!" Trevor's eyes went completely bloodshot, his face contorting with rage. "You bitch, you're asking for it!" He rolled up his sleeves, raised his fist, and charged at me. Chloe screamed, "Roxy, watch out!" I took one step back. His fist missed entirely, and his momentum sent him stumbling forward. Taking advantage of his imbalance, I raised my hand and slapped him directly across the face. Growing up, my mom made me do manual labor. I had serious arm strength. Not to mention, I put 100% of my power into that slap. Trevor swayed in place, completely stunned for two full seconds. When he finally snapped out of it, his face was purple, his eyes filled with absolute fury. Completely losing his mind, he looked around, then rushed into the kitchen and pulled out a gleaming meat cleaver. Martha fanned the flames. "Get her, son! Show this bitch who runs this house!" Chloe's legs gave out in terror. Eleanor fainted on the spot. Miles panicked and screamed, "Roxy, run!" Trevor looked deranged, gripping the knife and stepping toward me. Seeing this, I wasn't scared at all. In fact, I was thrilled. As long as he attacked first with a weapon, I could put him in a jail cell for the rest of his life. Trevor sneered darkly. "You were talking real big a second ago, you bitch! Why aren't you talking now?" Just at that exact moment, a booming, thunderous woman’s voice rang out from the front door. "Well, look at this party! Why'd you start the fight without me?" Trevor and I turned our heads at the same time. My mom was standing in the doorway, gripping a solid wooden bat, a gleeful, feral light shining in her eyes.
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