"Look at her, Mom. Heavy makeup, flashy clothes—what kind of decent woman dresses like that?" He leaned back, arms crossed with disdain. "You'll need to discipline her properly."
Violet shot him a warning glance before turning to me with a fawning smile.
"Zoey, please. You really misunderstood. I don't have bad intentions. I'm only thinking of your future. Why don't you give me—"
I raised my hand, cutting her off cold.
"Pack your things. Take him and get the hell out. If you're still here when I get back, I'm calling the police."
I hurled the warning at them before storming out, unable to stand the sight of them a second longer.
By afternoon, the morning's chaos felt like a bad dream. Sitting at my desk, I pulled up the home security feed, expecting an empty house.
Instead, rage clawed at my throat.
Violet and Isaac hadn't left. They'd multiplied.
My living room was packed—at least eight strangers crowded around my custom mahogany dining table, treating my home like a banquet hall. They gorged on my food, shouting over one another.
"You've hit the jackpot, Violet," a woman cackled, spraying crumbs. "This place must be worth millions."