No More Sacrifice For You

I died in that windowless storage closet.

The sound of my skull cracking still echoes deep within my ears. Liams fist, Lindas sneer, Arthurs back turning as he locked the doorDthose memories are like rusted nails driven into my mind.

I am Elena. In my past life, I emptied my savings to buy a condo in Manhattans Upper East Side, putting the title in Liams name. I thought that was love. It turned into a sanctuary for his family of six, while I was nothing more than a worker ant tasked with keeping them fed.

I paid the internet bills, covered the mortgage, and scrubbed every dirty dish. In return, I was framed for theft and locked in a storage closet to be beaten to death.

Now, I have returned to three months ago.

The afternoon the security system was installed.

This time, I will not just be the one paying the bills.

1

When I opened my eyes, a harsh white light was streaming through the bedroom curtains.

On the hardwood floor sat four unopened cardboard boxesDa Ring camera system.

Yes, today was the day we installed the surveillance. In my past life, I personally installed these cameras in the living room, the hallway, and the porch, acting like a dutiful housewife, telling Liam it was for security.

He smiled and agreed. Then, he copied the access key and gave it to his father, Arthur.

I knew this because, after I died, my soul lingered in that house. I watched Arthur sitting on the sofa, repeatedly replaying footage of me changing clothes in the dressing room on his phone.

This time, I bought three sets.

The first set, a standard Ring system, I installed in plain sight and generously shared access with Liam. This was the bait.

The second set, an Arlo micro-camera system, consisted of three grain-of-rice-sized lenses. I hid one behind the dial of the hallway clock, one in the base of the living room floor lamp, and one inside the hinge of the bedroom door frame.

The third set was the most critical. Two phonesDone hidden in the lining of my handbag, the other fixed in a blind spot above the wardrobe vent. Both phones recorded simultaneously, backing each other up.

My fingers did not tremble while I did this.

The fear had been burned away after my death. All that remained was cold, precise calculation.

At three in the afternoon, I called Liam into the living room.

Someone has been getting into the house lately, I said, trying to make my tone sound panicked. When I got back from running errands last week, the sliding door on the balcony was unlocked. Liam, are you sure your dad locked it when he came over?

Liam was scrolling on his phone on the sofa and didnt even look up. You definitely just forgot to lock it.

I didnt forget, I stared directly into his eyes. Besides, I installed cameras.

I pointed to the Ring camera at the door.

The password is your birthday. You can check it whenever you want. I gave your dad a copy, too.

Liam looked up, and for a split second, there was a flicker of panic in his eyes. He quickly suppressed it, masking it with an impatient expression.

Youre being overly dramatic.

Im scared, I said.

That sentence was true. I was indeed scared. But I wasnt afraid of any burglar.

Liam hesitated for two seconds, took my phone, and noted the shared password. His fingers hovered over the screen for less than three seconds before he swiped awayDhe had no intention of ever checking the footage.

He didnt know that his finger had slipped, accidentally triggering the playback function.

A frame flashed across the screen: under the hallway clock, Linda was wearing my silk pajamas, chatting and laughing with a strange man.

Liam retracted his hand quickly. But he had already seen it.

He didnt ask. He didnt plan to ask.

That was Liam. As long as the truth wasnt shoved directly into his face, he could pretend to know nothing.

Good. Then I would make sure he stayed ignorant until he no longer had the luxury of pretending.

2

The next evening, Liam went straight to the study after coming home from work.

He had been getting home earlier lately. His excuse was that his project wasnt busy. But my memories from the past life told me he didnt have a project at allDhe had been unemployed for two full months, putting on a suit every day to go sit on a park bench and scroll through job sites.

He came home early because his mother, Linda, would patrol my wardrobe during this time.

Sure enough.

At 7:12 PM, my phone buzzed. An Arlo motion alertDsomeone was in the living room.

I pulled up the hidden surveillance feed.

On the screen, Linda was wearing a garish floral dress, walking in from the entryway. She was followed by a woman carrying a large shopping bagDher sister, Sheila.

The two of them didnt even change their shoes; they headed straight for the bedroom.

I watched them open my wardrobe and rummage through my clothes like they were picking out merchandise at a thrift store.

This one is mine, Linda said, pulling out my cashmere coat and holding it up against herself. It cost over four hundred dollars; its such a waste for her to wear it.

How about this one? Sheila picked up a designer silk scarf. This must be worth at least five hundred, right?

Take it, take it. Shes got plenty in her closet anyway. Lindas tone was airy, as if those items naturally belonged to her. Ive served this family for so many years, whats wrong with taking a few clothes? She doesnt deserve to wear them, anyway.

I watched the footage with an expressionless face.

In my past life, this was how Linda slowly emptied my belongings. From clothes to jewelry to cosmetics, she even secretly drained my pre-marital stock account. And Liam played dumb the whole time, calling it keeping the family close.

This time, I didnt plan to argue with them.

I picked up my phone and sent a message to Brenda, Liams aunt and Arthurs sister.

Brenda was a snob, but she was usefulDher snobbery was one-way; she only cared about money. In my past life, she had a terrible relationship with Linda because Linda had once embezzled an inheritance that belonged to Brendas mother.

And I held a trump card.

That cashmere coatDin my past life, I had said something in front of the whole family on my birthday: Im going to give this coat to Aunt Brenda as a birthday gift.

Lindas expression back then had been priceless. She had secretly tried the coat on herself, only for me to assign it to someone elseDand someone she didnt want to give gifts to.

Later, while I was out, she stole the coat.

What did this coat mean to Brenda? It meant a physical item worth four hundred dollars, and more importantly, it was proof that Linda stole the birthday gift her niece-in-law promised her.

I clipped the crucial part of the surveillance footageDthe shot of Linda saying Whats wrong with taking a few clothes and the close-up of her stuffing the coat into Sheilas shopping bag.

The caption was simple:

Aunt, the birthday gift I promised you was taken by my sister-in-law.

The moment I pressed send, I felt a cold, surgeon-like satisfaction.

I didnt need to sharpen the knife myself. Using someone elses hand to cut the same meat was much cleaner.

3

Linda had no idea she had stepped on a landmine.

At ten oclock the next morning, Brenda drove straight to our house.

She walked in trailing a cloud of heavy perfume, her heels clicking sharply against the floorboards. Liam and Arthur were both home.

Sister-in-law, Brenda said, tossing her bag onto the sofa with a smile. Im here to see you.

Linda poked her head out of the kitchen, her smile stiffening for a fraction of a secondDshe must have thought of the coat.

Oh, Brenda, youre here. Sit, sit.

Brenda didnt sit. She stood in the center of the living room, scanning the area, her gaze sweeping over every corner before finally landing on Linda.

Sister-in-law, my niece-in-law mentioned last month that she was giving me her cashmere coat for my birthday. Where is it? Id like to see it.

The corner of Lindas mouth twitched.

What coat? She has so many clothes, how would I remember?

Brenda didnt say anything else. She took out her phone, tapped the screen a few times, and turned it around to face Linda.

On the screen, Linda was stuffing that camel-colored cashmere coat into Sheilas shopping bag, saying, Take it, take it. She doesnt deserve to wear it.

The living room fell silent.

Arthur was the first to react. He stood up, snatched the phone from Brenda, and watched the video from beginning to end.

His face turned from red to purple, not because he felt bad for his daughter-in-lawDhe didnt care about me at all. He was furious that Linda was stealing things sneakily and bringing an outsider (Sheila) into it, which made him lose face.

Linda! Arthur slammed the phone onto the coffee table. Are you out of your mind with greed?

Linda opened her mouth but didnt speak.

Back in my past life, when she stood in the storage closet pointing her finger at me and calling me you thief, her voice had been ten thousand times louder.

I sat in the bedroom, listening to the commotion outside, and calmly organized my closet. I re-hung the clothes Linda had stolen before but hadnt taken away, recording everything with photos.

This was the chain of evidence.

Over the next three days, Brenda blasted the video into the familys group chat.

The group chat exploded. Lindas phone rang all day long with relatives calling to berate her.

But the real show hadnt even started yet.

Because I knew that every time Linda felt humiliated at home, she did the exact same thingDshe brought her lover into our bedroom.

This was the truth I had only pieced together right before I died in my past life.

Linda wasnt some virtuous middle-aged woman. She received no warmth from Arthur, so she found a man outside who ran a renovation company named Gary. Every week or two, when Arthur went out to play cards and Liam went to work, she would bring Gary home.

I had known nothing about this in my past life. When I died in that storage closet, I still thought Linda was at least an evil mother-in-law who hadnt cheated.

Life really played a disgusting joke on me.

This time, I was prepared.

I checked Lindas patterns over the past three months and found a fixed routine: every Wednesday, when Arthur went to the card room and Liam went to work, she would bring Gary home. The first thing she did upon entering? Lock the bedroom door.

Lock.

That action was like a key inserting itself into the deepest part of my memory.

In my past life, I was the one locked out of that door, framed for stealing Lindas jewelry, and then dragged into the storage closet by Liam and beaten to death.

Locking the bedroom door.

It was her most fatal habit. And her biggest flaw.

Friday, 3:45 PM.

Arthur left for the card room right on time.

Liam wore his suit and carried his briefcase as he walked out the door. He closed it very quietlyDhe didnt know that I knew he hadnt actually gone to the office at all.

Four oclock sharp. My phone buzzed again.

Arlo motion alert.

I switched to the hallway clock camera. On the screen, Linda opened the front door, and a middle-aged man in a gray polo shirt slipped inside. Gary.

The two walked straight to the bedroom.

Linda casually pushed the door shut, and I heard the lock click.

They didnt know that inside the hinge of that door, a grain-of-rice-sized camera was faithfully recording everything. The phone above the wardrobe was running, too.

Two angles, cross-verifying each other.

I sat on the living room sofa, put on my headphones, and watched the live stream quietly.

Fifteen minutes after Linda and Gary entered the bedroom, I picked up my phone and sent a message to Brenda: Aunt, please come by the house around 4:30 PM. I have something for you. And bring Grandma.

At 4:29 PM, Brendas car pulled up to the curb.

When she got out, an elderly woman with graying hair followed herDLiams grandmother, Arthurs mother.

The three of them entered the house together.

I stood in the entryway to welcome them.

Aunt, Grandma, I smiled and poured each of them a cup of tea. Please wait a moment, let me get your gifts.

Brenda sat in the living room, looking around, not seeing Liam or Arthur.

Are they both out?

Liam is working overtime, and Dad is out playing cards, I said. Just us for now.

I walked into the kitchen, took out two gift bags I had prepared in advance, and placed them on the coffee table. One for Brenda, one for Grandma.

Then I took out my phone and activated the screen mirroring function.

The living room TV lit up.

On the screen, the view inside the bedroom was crystal clear.

Brendas expression went from a smile to shock in less than a third of a second. Grandmas teacup froze in mid-air.

In the footage, Linda was sitting on our bed, and Gary was pressing down on top of her. The two middle-aged people were entwined in a shameless display.

AhD! Brenda screamed, covering her mouth.

Grandmas hands began to shake, and tea spilled all over her pants.

Elena! Brenda glared at me, eyes wide. Is is thisD

I installed cameras, I said, my voice as calm as a weather report. Ever since we had an intruder last time.

Lindas voice drifted out from the bedroom. She let out a muffled groan; she was enjoying herself.

Grandmas face was already ghost-white. She gripped her cane, her knuckles turning blue.

Brenda snapped out of it. She stood up, her heels clicking rapidly against the marble floor as she marched to the bedroom doorD

The door was locked.

She started banging on it.

Bang, bang, bang.

Linda! Open this door right now!

There was no response from inside.

Brenda kicked it up a notch, slamming her foot against the door.

Three seconds later, the door opened.

Linda stood behind it, her hair disheveled, two buttons on her pajamas done incorrectly. Gary was huddled in the corner of the bed, shirtless.

Linda looked at the scene in the living roomDthe TV was still on, displaying the high-definition video of her that had just been recorded.

Her face went from red to white, then to gray.

Then she screamed.

The volume was loud enough for the entire apartment building to hear.