My daughter, mother-in-law, and sister-in-law froze in place.
They had never seen me so cold, so unyielding.
Even Tilly stared at me, ears drooping, as if he couldn’t understand.
Tears welled in my daughter’s eyes.
While the three of them stood stunned, I stepped forward, grabbed Tilly, and pushed him into the sack myself.
He didn’t struggle. Didn’t even whimper.
The dealer slung the sack over his shoulder and left. My sister-in-law wiped at her tears, her voice trembling with accusation.
“Sister-in-law… you and my brother raised him for seven years. How could you let him go?”
My mother-in-law, swallowing her grief, spoke gently but urgently.
“Evelaine, even if seeing Tilly reminds you of Edmund, there’s no need to send him to a dog meat restaurant. Are you feeling unwell? Did something happen to you?”
My daughter’s gaze locked on mine, her voice breaking.
“Mom… you can see it too, right? Tilly’s becoming more and more like Dad. You should be happy he’s here—taking Dad’s place. Why did you kill him?”
I looked at the three of them—confused, grieving, desperate for answers.
“You’ll know everything tomorrow,” I said quietly.
---
The next day.
It was my daughter Candace’s graduation banquet—celebrating her admission to two of the nation’s top universities.
Friends, relatives, and neighbors filled the venue, voices heavy with emotion.
“Edmund planned this whole banquet a month ago. Such a shame he passed away before it happened.”
“Every detail—every dish, every banner—was arranged by him.”
“He and Evelaine raised Candace with only one dream: to see her get into a good university. He must be smiling down from heaven.”
The banquet was lavish, but my mother-in-law and sister-in-law sat in silence, still weighed down by yesterday’s events.
When I arrived, my daughter—pale, with dark circles under her eyes—rushed to me.
“Mom, tell me… why did you send Tilly to the dog meat restaurant? Was it because of Dad?”
I nodded.
My mother-in-law’s brows knit together.
“What does that have to do with my son?”
Then her eyes widened, a spark of realization.
“You… you know something about Edmund’s death?”
My sister-in-law seized my arm.
“If you know anything, you have to tell us! My brother died so horribly—the police never found the killer!”
Others nearby began to gather, faces tense with anticipation.
Under their collective gaze, I took out my phone and dialed.
“Hello, police? I want to turn myself in.
I’ve committed murder. The victim’s name is Edmund Carroway.”
I hung up.
The room went utterly still.
Dozens of eyes stared at me in disbelief. My mother-in-law’s lips trembled.
“How… how is this possible? Evelaine, this has to be a joke.”
Her face drained of color, as if the ground beneath her had given way.
