At 30,000 feet, my doorbell camera pinged.On the live feed, my mother-in-law was dragging my terrified 8-year-old daughter across the driveway while my wife filmed with a sadistic smile. Her sisters were pouring harsh industrial chemicals on my sobbing child. When my wife realized the camera was recording, she panicked and dragged my daughter to the basement. I didn’t scream. I stormed the cockpit, diverted the jet, and called my men. 3 hours later, their twisted game met absolute chaos.

The heavy steel core of my reinforced front door, integrated with the smart-home locking mechanisms I had designed for executive protection, slammed shut. The motorized deadbolts fired into the reinforced doorframes with a loud, mechanical CRACK. The motorized security shutters on the ground-floor windows slammed down simultaneously, plunging the exterior into silence.

They were locked in.

I switched my phone’s interface to the internal security suite. The cameras in the foyer, the living room, and the hallway lit up.

Claire was yanking furiously at the front door handle. It didn’t budge. Tessa was pounding on the window shutters. Marlene stood in the center of the living room, looking around like a trapped rat. Lily was huddled in the corner, clutching her burning arms, shivering uncontrollably.

I pressed the microphone icon on my screen. My voice, amplified by the high-fidelity sound system wired through the ceilings of every room in the house, boomed through the property like the voice of a vengeful god.

“Step away from my daughter.”

Marlene shrieked, covering her ears. Claire spun around, her face completely drained of color, staring up at the ceiling speakers.

“Elias?” Claire’s voice trembled. Her facade of cruel amusement had shattered instantly.

“If any of you take one more step toward her, I swear to God, the locks on those doors will be the least of your problems,” I projected my voice, cold and lethal. “The police have been dispatched. I am thirty minutes out. Drop the chemicals. Sit on the floor. Now.”

Brooke dropped the plastic jug of solvent. It hit the hardwood floor, spilling the toxic-smelling liquid across the expensive rug.

For a moment, I had them. The psychological shock of my omnipresent voice had paralyzed them. But I had underestimated Claire’s desperation, and I had underestimated the depths of her deception.

Claire looked around, her eyes darting frantically. She didn’t sit down. Instead, a terrifying resolve settled over her features. She looked at Marlene, gave a sharp nod, and then sprinted toward the kitchen—toward the basement stairs.