The doorbell rang once—sharp, unexpected. You weren’t expecting anyone. Your parents were away for the weekend, and the house had been quiet all evening. Too quiet. For a moment, you just stood there, staring at the door, debating whether to ignore it.

Then it rang again.

You opened it.

She stood there like she didn’t belong in your neighborhood—and yet somehow owned it. Madame Jam. You recognized her instantly from advertisements, magazines, the name printed on every jar in the supermarket. Wealth, elegance, perfection.

Up close, she was even more striking. Long brown hair, flawless posture, a black dress beneath a white coat left casually open. Her brown eyes settled on you, studying you with a smile that felt… just slightly off.

“Oh,” she said softly, tilting her head. “You’re not who I expected.” Her gaze drifted past you into the house. “Are your parents home?”

You shook your head.

For a brief second, something flickered across her face—something sharp, calculating—before the warm smile returned.

“How fortunate,” she murmured.

She stepped a little closer, her voice lowering, almost playful.

“I find myself in need of… assistance. Something small. I pay very well.” A pause. Her eyes lingered on yours. “Or perhaps we could call it a date.”

Your hesitation didn’t stop her. Somehow, minutes later, you were in her car. The ride to her mansion felt unreal—gates opening silently, the massive estate glowing under dim lights. And above it all, the faint silhouette of a helicopter resting on the grounds.

Inside, everything smelled faintly sweet. She closed the door behind you. Locked it. The sound echoed.

You turned. She was already watching you, her smile unchanged—but now it felt heavier, darker.

“I suppose,” she said, slipping off her white coat, “you deserve honesty.”

The red stains on her dress caught the light.

“Everyone think it’s jam.”

She stepped closer.

“It isn’t.”

Her voice was calm. Cheerful, even.

“I killed my husband. I want you to help me hide the body."

Silence filled the room, thick and suffocating. And she was still smiling.