Chapter4

It was my mother-in-law, Darlene, who first discovered my father-in-law’s death.

She had gone down to the basement walk-in freezer to fetch something. Seconds after pushing open the door, she let out a scream.

My husband, Logan, was jolted awake, entirely oblivious to what had just happened. I was sitting on the living room couch, holding a half-finished glass of water.

The freezer door stood wide open. Inside, Warren was hanging upside down from a meat hook. His body had been split open from the chest down, his internal organs meticulously sorted into crates nearby.

Yet, the birthday gift I had prepared for him—a black suit jacket—remained completely unstained by blood, draped neatly over his head.

Logan stood in the doorway, his face a sickly, ashen grey. "How is this possible... That fraud psychic was actually telling the truth. We're really going to die."

Darlene slumped against the wall, her face buried in her hands, weeping in absolute silence.

I stood in the hallway just a few steps away, taking it all in.

I hadn't planned on killing Warren this soon, but he just had to go and discover my secret.

It rained heavily last night, just like the night I died.

I had quietly slipped out the back door of the estate and ventured into the dense woods behind the mountain to find my grandmother ,Mae Reed .

I was an orphan; she was the only person in this world who truly loved me.

I stood outside her window, watching her inside the room.

Even though her mind was slipping, she had never stopped looking for me in the four years since my disappearance. She firmly believed I was still alive.

I heard her murmuring to the nurse, "My granddaughter is still alive. She will come back."

Grandma, I’m back, but not in the way you hoped.

Watching her hunched silhouette swaying gently by the window, I felt a sudden, sharp pang in my chest.

It was the only warmth I was still capable of feeling—like the last drop of uncoagulated blood in a freezing corpse.

I needed to see her. This shell called Grace wouldn't hold up much longer; the stench of rot was already beginning to seep through the pores.

When she was fully lucid, Grandma had once taught me a trick—if the day ever came when a living skin could no longer contain the resentment of the dead, I should go to her. She would know what to do.

I knocked on her door. The rain was pouring relentlessly. Grandma squinted, staring at me for a long time. Reflected in her cloudy eyes was my beautiful, yet entirely unfamiliar face.

"Whose daughter are you?" she asked.

I opened my mouth, but no words came out. In the end, I simply reached out and gently held her trembling fingers.

She didn't pull away. After a moment of thought, she murmured, "Your hands are freezing... just like my Nora's."

I pressed a bundle of cash into her arms, and she whispered the method to me. I didn't linger after that; I left immediately. I was too terrified she might recognize me.

My vengeful curse had already seeped into their family of three. I was simply biding my time until Halloween, planning to dismantle them bone by bone, peel their skin off inch by inch, and devour their flesh.

But Warren ruined the schedule.

As I slipped back through the back door and sneaked into the basement laundry room, soaking wet, someone stepped in behind me and deadbolted the door.

Warren stood in the shadows. His lecherous gaze crawled from my clinging, drenched shirt up to my neck, where the rain had washed away my makeup, exposing the livor mortis.

"Sneaking back in the middle of a storm with a neck full of hickeys," he sneered. "Been out whoring around with some guy?"

He had mistaken livor mortis for hickeys.

I lowered my eyes and stayed silent.

"Don't be nervous," Warren said, his hands beginning to roam over my body. "I know my son can't satisfy you. The other day, when I was touching you, you didn't even pull away. Doesn't that mean you're desperate for a man?"

He touch my breast . "As long as you take good care of me, I'll keep your dirty secret. And right now... no one is going to interrupt us."

"Is that so?" I whispered.

Impatient and breathing heavily, he reached out with both hands, grabbed the collar of my shirt, and yanked downward with all his might.

Warren gasped sharply. Under the light, he realized what he was holding wasn't just fabric—he had torn off a massive chunk of human skin, mottled with purple rot.

He looked up at me in absolute terror.

By then, my head had snapped backwards, rotating a full one hundred and eighty degrees. The pretty disguise melted completely from my face.

Nora—the girl he had personally butchered and dismembered on that rainy night four years ago—was now smiling at him through the hollow shell called Grace.

"You're absolutely right, father-in-law."

I slowly raised my right hand, sliding the hunting knife he had just sharpened the night before off the workbench.

"I didn't pull away that day because I was waiting. Waiting for the perfect moment to send your entire family to hell."

Warren’s face went corpse-white. He stumbled backwards, his throat emitting a wet, choking gurgle instead of a scream.

I tightened my grip on the hilt of the knife and smiled, taking a step toward him.

"And right now... no one is going to interrupt us."