When I return to my hometown for the holidays, my brother-in-law, Tyler Atwood, has completely forgotten to hide his latest social media post from me.

"Ugh, Arlene is really vain! Her room is filled with useless things like figurines and dolls! They are such an eyesore!

"My daughter wants to play with them, and yet Arlene claims that those figurines are limited-edition. Since she refuses to let Celeste play with them, she can forget about keeping them!"

Tyler even starts chatting with the commenters in the comment section.

"Once we're done with Christmas dinner, I'll lock the door and let Celeste smash everything she sees there. If they break, I'll just claim that Celeste doesn't know any better. What, is Arlene going to take what a five-year-old does seriously?

"When the time comes, I'll just guilt-trip her and cry even louder. Let's see who my in-laws will help by then!"

As soon as I park the car in the courtyard, I hear loud smashing noises coming from the second floor.

My niece, Celeste Atwood, screams excitedly at the top of her lungs. "That meanie's things are all dead now! I'm going to break them all!"

That's when Tyler welcomes me at the door with a fake smile plastered on his face.

"You're back, Arlene! Celeste is helping you clean your room at the moment. She really is a nice kid. She knows that you like things clean, so she insists on cleaning your room for you."

Arlene's POV

A muffled thud of something heavy hitting the floor came from upstairs again, and the whole house seemed to shake along with it.

I dodged past my brother-in-law, Tyler Atwood, and rushed straight into the house.

Tyler reached out to block the doorway.

"Hey, what's wrong with you? You just got back and you're charging into the house without even saying hello to me? Have you no manners?"

I forcefully shoved his hand aside, causing him to stumble back a couple of steps.

"Arlene Manning, how dare you push me?"

I bounded up to the second floor, taking the stairs two at a time.

The door was slightly ajar.

The "Do Not Disturb" sign that had been hanging on the door handle was broken in two and discarded on the hallway carpet.

I pushed the door open to a room full of wreckage.

The entire wall-length acrylic display cabinet had been pushed over onto the floor. Its doors were shattered, and shards of glass covered the wooden floor.

The rare discontinued Labubu and limited-edition Zimomo figures that I'd spent five years collecting from all over the world were now all decapitated and dismembered. Some had their arms snapped off, while others had their faces stomped flat.

Singer from The Monster Forest Concert collection—a global limited edition of only ten pieces—was now being trampled underfoot by five-year-old Celeste Atwood. She was grinding it beneath her little leather shoes, pressing down hard on its vinyl face.

"Die! Die! Die!"

Still jumping up and down, Celeste grabbed another blind-box chase figure within reach and hurled it against the wall.

The plastic exploded with a bang, pieces scattering everywhere.

I felt my blood rush straight to my head, my eardrums pounding.

Celeste spotted me and stuck out her tongue.

"You meanie! Daddy said all this is junk, so I'm helping you throw out the trash!"

Tyler caught up. When he saw the wreckage strewn across the room, he clapped.

"Oh my, Celeste doesn't know her own strength. Arlene, look how hard Celeste has been working. Why, she's completely drenched in sweat."

He walked into the room, stepping over the shattered remains of my figurines, and scooped Celeste up. He then wiped her sweat away with his sleeve.

"Relax. So what if they're broken? They're just plastic junk anyway. I'll swing by The Dollar Store later and buy a whole new bunch for you."

I fixed my gaze on him. "The Dollar Store?"

Tyler rolled his eyes and started out of the room with Celeste in his arms.

"What? Is that not good enough for you? Arlene, you should be embarrassed of yourself—you're almost 30 years old and you're still playing with this kiddie crap. Celeste did you a favor by smashing them all. You should thank her for helping you beat your addiction."

Celeste draped herself over Tyler's shoulder and flipped me the middle finger.

"You're nothing but a broke loser."

I stepped forward and blocked the doorway. "You're not going anywhere."

Tyler stopped and hitched Celeste higher up on his hip.

"What do you think you're doing? Are you going to take a swing at us? Arlene, I'll have you know that Celeste is the only grandchild in this family. Mom and Dad will never forgive you if you lay a finger on her."

Downstairs, the security door swung open again.

My sister, Alison Manning, and our parents came in carrying Christmas supplies.

When she heard the commotion upstairs, Alison hollered from below, "What's all that racket? It's Christmas—can't a person get some peace and quiet?"

To Tyler, it was like a bugle sounding the charge. Still holding Celeste, he plopped himself down onto the debris-covered floor and just started wailing at the top of his lungs.

"Help! Arlene's going to beat Celeste to death! I can't go on living!"

Startled, Celeste started bawling along with him.

A chaotic stampede of footsteps surged up the stairs.

Alison was the first to charge in. The moment she saw Tyler and Celeste on the floor, her expression darkened.

She shoved me hard. My back slammed against the doorframe, and a searing pain shot through my shoulder blade.

"Arlene, have you lost your mind?"

"I just got pregnant with my second child, so my health is extremely fragile right now. Why did you push Tyler to the ground? Who's going to take care of me? I'll kill you if anything happens to the baby!" Alison threatened.

Seeing the disastrous state of the room, my mother, Elaine Rowe, froze for a moment, then frowned. She quickly walked over to help Tyler up.

"Oh dear, the floor's freezing and covered in broken glass. Come on, get up. Celeste didn't get cut, did she?"

Mom took Celeste from Tyler's arms and examined her from head to toe. Only after confirming Celeste was completely unharmed did she let out a sigh of relief.

Then, she turned to glare at me.

"Arlene, you're a grown woman. How can you still hold a grudge against a child? Celeste is only five years old—she doesn't know any better."

I pointed at the fragments on the floor.

"Those were my collectibles, worth seven figures. She might not know any better, but Tyler certainly should."

Alison let out a scornful laugh and kicked a severed figurine head aside.

"Seven figures? Arlene, if you're going to lie, at least come up with something more believable. I mean, as if this pile of plastic junk could ever be worth a million dollars. You must be out of your mind for money!"

Tyler groaned, clutching his lower back.

"Honey, my stomach hurts. Arlene is trying to scam us. She just can't stand seeing us do well and wants to swindle me out of my savings."

My father, Nate Manning, said grimly, "Enough! It's Christmas—don't be a buzzkill by bringing up all this talk about money. They're just toys. So what if they're broken? Out with the old, in with the new, I'd say."

He turned to look at me. "Clean up this room right now. There's glass everywhere. What if Celeste gets cut? Once it's clean, come down and make dinner. Tyler's had a shock, so you're cooking tonight."

With that, he waved his hand and told Alison to help Tyler downstairs.

The whole family clustered together and left.

No one gave the mess on the floor a second glance or asked if I was hurt or sad.

I stood there watching them disappear down the stairwell.

So much for family.

I crouched down, my hands trembling as I picked up Singer's head. The vinyl surface was marked with deep footprints from Celeste's shoes, dirt embedded in the figurine's eyes.

I took out my phone and photographed and recorded videos from every angle, capturing every detail of the fragments and every corner that had been destroyed, including the cabinet door that had been kicked in.

After finishing all that, I got a broom and carefully swept the fragments into a cardboard box.

Once the room was cleaned up, I was about to lock the door and head downstairs.

I took the key out of my pocket and inserted it into the lock. However, it wouldn't turn.

I froze for a moment. Then, I pulled it out and tried again. Still, it wouldn't turn.

I bent down to take a closer look at the keyhole.

The brand-new cylindrical lock gleamed with a cold, metallic sheen.

This wasn't my original door lock. They had changed it for me!

The sound of television and Celeste's laughter drifted up from downstairs.

The dining table was already covered with walnut shells and pomegranate peels.

Tyler was lying on the couch scrolling through his phone, while Alison sat beside him peeling grapes for him.

Mom was busy in the kitchen, the range hood rumbling loudly.

I tossed the useless key onto the living room coffee table with a clatter.

Alison flinched, and a grape fell to the ground.

She shot me a glare and asked, "What is wrong with you?"

"Who changed the lock on my room?"

Alison picked up the grape and blew on it before popping it into her mouth.

"I did. What about it?" She even had the nerve to sound justified. "The previous fingerprint lock broke, so I had the locksmith install a new one. Tyler has the key. Go ask him for it."

Tyler never took his eyes off his phone as he typed away rapidly.

"Oh, the key? Celeste took it to play with. I've no idea where she tossed it. Anyway, you're hardly ever home, so there's no need to lock the door. We're family—it's not like anyone's going to steal from you."

"Besides, there's nothing of value left in your room anyway. After all, it's all been smashed to pieces, isn't it?" Tyler added.

I took a deep breath, suppressing the urge to flip over the coffee table.

"That was a fingerprint lock. If it ran out of battery, all it needed was a recharge. So, how could it be broken? Moreover, that's my room. What gives you the right to change the lock without my consent?"

Alison shot to her feet. "Arlene, you'd better get this straight—this is Dad and Mom's house, and I'm the eldest daughter of this family! Since when do I need to report to you just to change a lock?

"You live in another city and barely come home twice a year. This room is just going to waste sitting empty. After Christmas, I'm turning your room into Celeste's study.

"From now on, when you come back, you can sleep on the couch and rough it for a couple of days."

Just then, Mom came out of the kitchen with a plate of hot food.

"What's all the shouting about? Go wash your hands for dinner. Arlene, don't just stand there—bring the soup from the kitchen!"

"Mom, did you know Alison is going to turn my room into Celeste's study?" I asked.

Mom set the dish down on the table.

"Of course I know. Celeste is about to start elementary school. She needs a quiet place to do her homework. Your room gets good light, so it's perfect for her. You'll get married and move out eventually. Once you're gone, you're not our problem anymore. So, why would I hold onto a room for you?"

I had not only paid the down payment for this house, but I also covered the monthly mortgage.

Back when we bought the place, Dad and Mom said to put it in their names so that when Alison got married, she wouldn't have to bring anything to the marriage.

And now, I was the one getting tossed out like yesterday's news.

"Eat!" Dad sat at the head of the table and rapped his knuckles against it.

Tyler made a point of having Celeste sit right next to me.

No sooner had we sat down than Celeste grabbed a drumstick, took a bite, and then flung it away. The drumstick came flying over and smacked right into my white puffer jacket. A huge grease stain instantly bloomed across the fabric.

Celeste laughed, slapping the table. "Aunt Arlene is a dirty pig!"

Tyler half-heartedly pulled two tissues from the dispenser and handed them to me.

"Oh, Celeste, you're such a little troublemaker. Arlene, you got that jacket from a thrift store right? Don't worry. I'll give you a couple of my jackets from last season that I don't wear anymore."

Alison looked on with adoring eyes and placed a piece of grilled rib onto Celeste's plate.

"Celeste, what a great throw! You could be a basketball player when you grow up."

Suddenly, I laughed.

"What are you laughing at, freak?" Alison muttered.

I picked up my fork and speared a piece of broccoli, putting it in my mouth.

"Nothing. I just think this meal is pretty expensive."

Tyler curled his lip. "Pfft. How much could home cooking possibly cost?"

Late that night, I lay on the living room couch with a thin blanket over me.

My room was locked, and the key had conveniently gone missing. The guest room was so crammed with Tyler's flipped sneaker boxes that I couldn't even step inside.

Dad and Mom said, "The living room has good heating. Just make do for the night."

At 2:00 am, I woke up thirsty.

I got up and went to the kitchen for a glass of water. As I passed by the door of the master bedroom, I heard voices from inside.

Alison's voice was barely a whisper. "Honey, Arlene took pictures of the smashed figurines just now. She's not really going to call the cops, is she? I looked online, and those stupid figurines of hers might actually be worth a lot of money."

Tyler let out a dismissive snort.

"Call the cops? Over what? This is our house, and Celeste is only five years old. What are the cops going to do, arrest a kid? At worst, it's a family mediation. We'd just have to pay a few hundred dollars, and that's it.

"Besides, Mom and Dad are right here. If Arlene dares to call the cops on Celeste, Mom and Dad will break her legs."

Alison giggled. "True. Oh, and seeing the look on her face today was so satisfying. She walks around acting like some big shot city professional, but the moment she comes home, she still has to wait on me hand and foot."

Tyler continued, "And this is just the beginning. Tomorrow, we'll make her take us Christmas shopping, and we'll only grab the expensive stuff. Didn't she just get her year-end bonus? I heard it's over 100 thousand dollars.

"Once we bleed her dry, she won't be able to afford a place in the city. Then, she'll have no choice but to crawl back here and get married. I've already got someone in mind—that crippled guy, Andy Goff, from the east side of the village.

"He's willing to pay 100 thousand dollars to the bride's family—any woman would do. After Arlene marries him, that 100 thousand dollars can go straight into savings for Celeste to buy a house in the future.

"We should also transfer this house into Celeste's name as soon as possible. The longer we wait, the more things could go wrong."

Alison said excitedly, "Honey, you're a genius! This is what they call robbing someone blind, right? We'll squeeze her dry until not a cent is left!"

"Shh, keep it down. Don't let her hear you!"

"So what if she did? This is our turf. What's she going to do about it?"

I stood in the shadows, the glass in my hand ice-cold.

They didn't just want my room. No, they wanted to bleed me dry like a human cash cow, and sell me off to a cripple after they'd sucked out every last drop.

I pulled out my phone and opened the voice recording app.

"Oh, and honey, when we go to the mall tomorrow, I want that gold bracelet. You know, the one that costs 20 thousand dollars? Make Arlene pay for it."

"Sure. You can buy whatever you want. It's not like she's married or has kids. If she hangs onto her money, it'll just end up with some stranger. So, she might as well spend it on us."

The recording hit the five-minute mark. I pressed stop and saved it. Then, I opened the home security app.

Back then, I installed surveillance cameras in the living room and hallway so I could keep an eye on my parents, who were living alone.

They'd probably long forgotten those two cameras were even there.

I pulled up the playback from earlier that day.

The footage clearly showed Tyler using my spare key to open the door, then instructing Celeste to go inside.

"Celeste, go on in and smash all those ugly figurines into pieces! When you're done, I'll buy you a Barbie doll."

Alison stood by with a cold smirk.

"Smash it good. Don't leave anything for your Aunt Arlene."

The evidence was conclusive.

The charge would be instructing a minor to destroy property, with the value involved being extraordinarily high.

Since they wanted to bleed me dry, I decided that I'd turn the tables around and make sure they didn't get a single penny out of me.

I backed up the recordings and videos to the cloud. Then, I sent a WhatsApp message to my friend, Marsha Hurst, who worked at a law firm.

"Do you want to take on a big case? The minimum settlement is seven figures, and it includes both criminal and civil charges."

She replied instantly, "I'm in. Whose case is it?"

I answered, "Mine. I'm sending my sister and her family to jail."