Chapter 127
Suzy’s mockery cut like a blade.
Even someone as dense as George could hear it—she wasn’t here to help. She was here to watch them fall.
His chest heaved violently with anger, his bound hands clenching tight behind his back.
To be seen in such a humiliating, wretched state by Suzy—it burned through his reason like poison fire.
He had already harbored deep resentment toward her over the contract incident. The chaos of the apocalypse, and her sudden disappearance, had only pushed those feelings aside.
But now...
She had reappeared.
And not only that, she had witnessed him at his lowest.
How could he possibly accept this?
The thought that she might have been watching them all along through the surveillance cameras only made his fury surge even higher.
"Suzy! Is this how you speak to your father?!" he roared. "You knew something had happened at home, didn’t you? And you just stood there watching?! Has your conscience been eaten by dogs?!"
If she could monitor them... even talk to them through the cameras—what did that mean?
It meant she had chosen not to contact them.
Maybe she had even seen the Sanders family stealing—and said nothing.
This was the daughter he had raised.
Worse than an animal.
"Conscience?" Suzy’s voice turned icy.
"Father, you think you have the right to talk to me about conscience? Wasn’t your heart always biased toward Tommy and your precious Wendy? Now that you’re in trouble, you suddenly remember I exist?"
Her voice sharpened, each word like a frozen needle.
"When you tried to cheat me out of the inheritance my mother left me, where was your conscience then?"
In that other life—he had taken everything from her.
Even when she begged for help, he had shown none.
She paused, then continued coldly, "You probably don’t know this, but I’ve been watching you the whole time. Let me tell you something: from the very first day the Sanders family moved in, they’ve been stealing from you."
A faint laugh slipped from her lips.
"You really brought a pack of rats into your own home. Impressive."
Her amusement only deepened.
"It took you this long to notice. I don’t know whether to call you naive... or just stupid."
She let out a soft chuckle.
"This whole dog-eat-dog show has been absolutely entertaining. Fighting over supplies that don’t even exist, tearing yourselves apart for a parasitic in-law family—and look at you now."
Then, as if remembering something, her tone turned playful again.
"Oh, right—Aunt Fiona. I saw what happened between you and Patrick too."
Her laugh carried a sharp edge.
"Still going strong at your age, huh?"
The moment Suzy had discovered that scandal, she had gone back and reviewed earlier footage.
Frame by frame.
The way Fiona had toyed with Patrick... it had been quite the performance.
A seasoned player, indeed.
"Ahhh—shut up! What nonsense are you spouting?!" Fiona shrieked.
Was she trying to get her killed by bringing this up right now?!
"Dad, that’s quite the impressive green hat you’re wearing," Suzy added lightly.
Beside her, George’s face shifted from red... to green... and finally to a lifeless gray.
In that instant, he seemed to age ten years.
Suzy went on, her tone laced with cruel amusement:
"Patrick’s young and strong—far better than you, Dad. Aunt Fiona, you must be very satisfied, huh?"
"You—shut up!" Fiona screamed. "You ungrateful wretch! You’re just here to watch us suffer! I should never have—"
George was shaking with rage, words tumbling over themselves as the veins on his forehead throbbed violently.
If Suzy had been standing in front of him right now, he would have thrown himself at her without hesitation.
The family he had been so proud of. The son he had favored above all else. The supplies he had relied on. Even the woman who had shared his bed... All of it had turned into a cruel joke.
And every bit of that humiliation had been witnessed—coldly, mercilessly—by the daughter he had never truly cared about.
"What shouldn’t you have done?" Suzy cut in smoothly, her voice calm. "Shouldn’t have had me? Or shouldn’t have let my mother give birth to me?"
A faint pause.
"Too late for that now."
Her tone remained even, but each word struck with precision.
"George... are you regretting it now?"
"Regretting how you treated Wendy like a treasure, only for her to strip you clean and run. Regretting how you spoiled Tommy rotten, only for him to stand by while you got beaten for a woman. Regretting bringing that pack of wolves—the Sanders family—into your home, only to be bitten back and tied up here waiting to die."
Every sentence landed like a blade.
"Oh—and one more thing."
As if remembering something amusing, Suzy’s voice carried a hint of dark playfulness.
"You’ve been wondering where all the supplies went, haven’t you? Margaret actually guessed it right."
George and Fiona both jolted, their eyes snapping toward the camera.
George’s voice came out hoarse. "You... what do you mean?"
Suzy’s tone held a trace of cruel satisfaction.
"Your precious Wendy has a storage space. You know what that means, don’t you? I don’t need to explain."
A soft, chilling laugh followed.
"All those supplies that vanished into thin air? Of course she moved them in advance. When she left, she had no intention of leaving you a way to survive."
"Think carefully. Before she left, didn’t she go to the storage room? She walked out empty-handed—but everything was already in her space."
Her voice sharpened.
"You spent all those years doting on her, and this is what you raised. How does it feel?"
"N-no... that’s impossible... Wendy wouldn’t..." Fiona tried to argue, but her voice faltered.
Memories surfaced—
The days before Wendy left. The storage room that had looked full... yet somehow wasn’t.
A cold dread crept up her spine.
That’s right.
Before everything began, Wendy had bought a massive amount of supplies and brought them home.
Far more than the storage room should have been able to hold.
So where had it all gone?
If Wendy had a storage space... Then everything made sense.
Her calmness when she left. Her confidence. Her lack of hesitation.
She had prepared everything in advance.
A flicker of resentment twisted in Fiona’s chest.
She was her mother.
She had carried her for ten months, given birth to her.
If Wendy was going to leave... shouldn’t she have taken her along?
Instead, she took everything—and abandoned them to die.
Suzy clicked her tongue softly.
"Now that I think about it... I almost feel bad for Wendy. She prepared so much for your whole family."
A faint chuckle.
"If you hadn’t indulged Tommy, if you hadn’t invited wolves into your home, you’d probably be living quite comfortably right now. At the very least, you wouldn’t be lying there like beaten dogs, tied up in a storage room."
Her voice turned mocking again.
"She left you enough supplies to live comfortably for decades—no worries about food or clothing, even in the apocalypse."
A brief pause.
"Such a pity. You drove her away yourselves. Tommy hit her, didn’t he? Forced her out."
A quiet, almost amused sigh.
"You had a golden lifeline right in front of you—and you let it slip through your fingers. Honestly... I almost feel sorry for you."