I Killed My Entire Family for Revenge

When Elysia returned, her arms were laden with bags of nutritional supplements.

The moment she stepped through the door, my dad forgot all about the news on TV. He stood up quickly, his usual composure replaced with urgency.

“Let me take those,” he said, hurrying over to relieve her of the bags. He placed them gently on the floor, one by one, and his voice brimmed with concern.

“How’s your recovery? Did you finish everything at the hospital? Was there traffic on the way? And why’d you buy so much? Your mom and I have everything here. Just focus on taking care of yourself… and Thaddeus and the baby. We’re fine.”

Hearing the commotion, my mom emerged from the kitchen, still wearing her apron. She awkwardly wiped her hands on it, her face lighting up.

“Elysia, you’re back? Go wash your hands first. The food will be ready soon. Thaddeus is in the bedroom watching the baby,” she said with a smile.

It’s often said that mothers-in-law and daughters-in-law are natural adversaries, but Elysia had a bond with my parents stronger than any biological daughter could claim.

Elysia smiled warmly at their concern, nodded, and headed to the bathroom to freshen up. As she walked away, my dad turned to my mom and waved her back into the kitchen.

“What are you standing here for? Get back to cooking! Everyone’s home now, and dinner’s still not ready. Don’t keep the three kids hungry.”

My mom gave him a playful glare but complied, returning to her work.

The atmosphere was warm and comforting—almost too perfect to leave behind.

In the bedroom, I opened the drawer of the bedside table and took my last dose of medicine. The bitter taste lingered as I swallowed, then stood and made my way to the living room.

As I stepped out, Elysia emerged from the bathroom. Her gaze fell on me instantly, her eyes brimming with worry.

“Why have you lost so much weight?” she asked, her voice soft but urgent. “Are you feeling unwell? Have you been overworking yourself taking care of our daughter?”

She reached out, intending to feel my forehead, but I shifted away calmly.

“Mom and Dad are still here,” I said in a low voice. “Don’t.”

My dad, standing nearby, chuckled but kept his eyes down, pretending not to hear. The smirk tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed him.

Elysia pouted slightly but didn’t argue. Instead, she reached into her bag and pulled out a beautifully wrapped gift box. With a flourish, she opened it to reveal a stunning, sunlit watch worth millions.

“Do you like it?” she asked, a hint of excitement in her voice. “I wanted to thank you, honey, for taking such good care of our daughter this past month. You’ve worked so hard.”

I accepted the gift with a faint smile and kissed her gently on the forehead.

“It’s too nice to wear,” I said softly. “Let’s put it away for now. Come on, dinner’s ready.”

She nodded, her smile unwavering, showing no sign of disappointment.

What a thoughtful and perfect wife.

When dinner was finally served, Elysia stepped out to the balcony to take a call.

My parents and I shared an unspoken understanding: no one reached for their chopsticks.

We waited. Half an hour passed before Elysia returned from the balcony, and only then did we begin to eat.

My dad, usually composed, seemed unusually flustered today. His attempts at conversation were clumsy, almost forced.

“Here, try this,” he said, placing food on Elysia’s plate. “This is your mom’s specialty. You won’t find anything like it outside.”

My mom chimed in with a nervous smile, her embarrassment thinly veiled.

“It’s nothing special. As long as you like it, I’ll make more next time. Come home often, okay? Bring our precious granddaughter… we’d love to see her more.”

Their expressions—hopeful yet anxious—made my appetite vanish. I pushed my chair back and stood.

“Thaddeus,” my mom called quickly. “Where are you going? Eat first; the food will get cold.”

“It’s fine,” I replied calmly. “I’m going to make some milk. The baby will cry if she’s hungry.”

In the nursery, I prepared the milk powder with practiced ease. As soon as the bottle touched my daughter’s lips, I heard it—a heavy thud outside. Then another. And another.

Three distinct sounds.

I glanced at the clock, counting the seconds, then walked out of the room.

The sight that greeted me was exactly as planned.

My parents lay sprawled on the floor, motionless and disheveled. Their breaths were shallow, faint.

Elysia was still conscious, slumped in her chair in the living room. Her eyes, wide with terror, locked onto mine. She struggled to move, to cry out, but the drug had robbed her of any strength, leaving her utterly silent.

I stepped closer, my expression unreadable.

“Good,” I said softly, crouching to meet her gaze. “Watch carefully. This is what retribution looks like.”

Her eyes filled with confusion and fear, darting between my parents and me.

I straightened, letting her soak in the scene. Every second of her helplessness felt like justice.

For now, I would let her watch.