"Cancel it. Today," my mother demanded, her voice flat, devoid of any room for negotiation.

I stared at her, the printed boarding passes for my dream honeymoon to Maui slipping slightly in my grip. "Mom, our flight leaves in six hours. We’ve saved for three years for this. What are you talking about?"

"Your father and I are flying to Cabo for a last-minute retreat. You need to stay behind and take care of Leo and Mia," she said, nonchalantly adjusting her designer sunglasses as if she hadn't just asked me to throw eight thousand dollars into the fireplace.

"For free?" my fiancé, Mark, choked out, stepping up beside me. "You want us to cancel our non-refundable honeymoon to be unpaid babysitters for two weeks?"

"Family helps family, Mark," Dad interjected, rolling his oversized Rimowa luggage toward the front door. "Besides, Sarah is their older sister. It’s her responsibility. We’re leaving now. The house keys are on the counter."

Before I could process the sheer absurdity, my parents pushed past us, slammed the front door, and speed-dialed an Uber. Minutes later, the house plunged into a heavy, suffocating silence.

I looked at Mark, my stomach twisting into knots. "I'm so sorry, babe. Let me just call them—"

Suddenly, my eight-year-old brother, Leo, ran down the stairs, his face pale and eyes wide with pure terror. He clutched my twelve-year-old sister Mia’s hand, whose phone was buzzing uncontrollably.

"Sarah, they didn't go to Cabo," Leo sobbed, trembling violently. "They locked all the doors from the outside, and a strange black SUV just pulled into the driveway."

My heart hammered against my ribs. I rushed to the front window and peered through the blinds. A sleek black Escalade sat idling at the curb. Two men in dark suits stepped out, walking deliberately toward our porch. My phone chimed with a text message from a blocked number: