After four years working abroad and sending over 100,000 dollars, I came home without warning and found my wife bald, skin and b0nes, and picking up broken dishes in the backyard. My mother said, “She brought this on herself.” I didn't yell. I took out my phone and announced a massive compensation package that hid a trap of my own.

As the front door swung open, six uniformed police officers, led by Lead Detective Miller of the Homicide and Special Investigations Unit, rushed up the brick steps, their weapons drawn.

"Springfield PD! Nobody move!" Detective Miller shouted, stepping into the grand foyer.

"Gavin! Help us!" Margaret screamed, dropping to her knees, reaching her gold-laden hands out toward me in a desperate, hysterical panic. "He’s lying! Officers, he’s insane! He’s trying to steal our house!"

"Margaret Mercer and Paige Mercer," Detective Miller read from an arrest warrant, his voice booming through the high-ceilinged mansion. "You are under arrest for attempted premeditated murder, conspiracy to commit murder, grand larceny, and illegal possession and administration of a controlled toxic substance!"

Two officers lunged forward, grabbing Paige’s arms. She screamed, thrashing wildly, her designer tracksuit tearing as they slammed her against the marble dining table, pulling her hands behind her back and snapping heavy steel handcuffs over her gold bracelets.

"Get off me! Get your filthy hands off me!" Paige shrieked, sobbing hysterically. "It was Mom! Mom told me to do it! She bought the chemicals! She made me keep the log!"

"You ungrateful bitch!" Margaret screamed at her daughter, wrestling against the officer who was forcing her wrists into cuffs. "Gavin! I’m your mother! I gave you life! You can't do this to me!"

I stood on the front porch, watching them struggle. My face was completely devoid of emotion.

"You didn't give me life, Margaret," I said softly as the officers dragged them past me toward the waiting police cruisers. "You tried to take the life of the only person who ever loved me for who I am."

Neighbouring homeowners stood on their pristine green lawns, staring in utter shock as Margaret and Paige—the women who had spent four years boasting about their wealth and status—were shoved into the back seats of marked police cars, their screams echoing down Elm Street.

Detective Miller stepped up to me, handing me a property seizure receipt.

"Dr. Vance has been taken into custody at his clinic," Miller reported. "The laptop was seized ten minutes ago. With the log files, the tox reports, and Paige’s confession on the floor, they won't even make it to a jury trial. The DA is offering no bail."

"Thank you, Detective," I said quietly.

"How is your wife?" Miller asked gently.

"She’s coming home today," I said.

I watched the police cruisers drive away, their red and blue lights flashing against the gold-painted gate.