Chapter 2 - The Eruption in the Service WingThe air in the back service kitchen was thick with steam and the sharp smell of harsh industrial dish soap.
I stepped out from the shadows of the doorway, my boots clicking sharply against the tile floor. "Let the pan go, Jennifer," I said. My voice was dangerously quiet, cutting through the hum of the extractor fans like a razor blade. Jennifer froze, her wine glass tipping slightly before she spun around, her eyes widening in sheer, unadulterated terror as she looked upon my face. "Ethan... you... you're supposed to be in Singapore until next month!" she stammered, color draining instantly from her cheeks. Emma dropped the sponge, her head snapping up in disbelief, her hollow eyes locking onto mine as if she were looking at a ghost. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out; instead, a choked sob escaped her lips as she stepped back from the sink, clutching her raw hands to her chest. I ignored my sister completely, walking past her as if she were invisible, and stopped directly in front of my wife. I gently took her trembling, blistered hands into my own palms, feeling the raw damage years of domestic abuse and forced servitude had inflicted upon her. "You're coming with me," I whispered, my voice thick with emotion as I looked into her tear-filled eyes. "Your nightmare in this house is officially over." Before Jennifer could recover her voice or invent a pathetic excuse, I turned my gaze toward her, my eyes burning with a dark, terrifying promise. "And as for the rest of you parasites," I added softly, "your party is about to come to a very abrupt end."
