It happened during a family dinner.

My six-year-old daughter suddenly shoved her hand into the scalding cheese fondue and started crying desperately.

“Mommy! My hand hurts! I can’t go on live-stream anymore! Please, Mommy, don’t hit me again! I’ll be a good and obedient girl, I promise!”

My husband’s face was dark with fury. He grabbed my phone and opened my gallery—only to find it filled with inappropriate photos of our daughter.

That was all it took. He beat me bloody with a threat. “If you ever lay a hand on Niah again, I’ll kill you!”

A few days later, he had to leave on a business trip. As he packed, our daughter clung to his leg, sobbing uncontrollably.

“Daddy, don’t go! Please don’t go! If you leave me alone, Mommy will have someone kidnap me! She’ll break my legs! She’ll cut out my tongue!”

Everyone thought she was just saying nonsense… until it happened—she really was kidnapped, her legs broken, her tongue cut out.

With what remaining strength my daughter had, she dipped her fingers in her own blood and wrote on the van’s floor.

[Mommy! She tried to kill me!]

Blinded by rage, my husband nearly beat me to death. In the end, his parents convinced him to divorce me and kick me out of the villa with nothing.

I stumbled through the streets, bleeding and broken, until rabid strays bit me.

That was how I died.

But then—I woke up… on the very first time my daughter accused me.

——

“Mommy, I want cheese fondue tonight!”

Her sweet little voice chirped beside me. I flinched. Then I turned and met her eyes.

Cold. Calculating. Like a cat playing with a mouse already too weak to run.

And I was that mouse.

A chill ran up my spine and settled at the base of my skull.

In my last life, I said yes. I made cheese fondue that night, and that gave her the perfect opportunity to hurt herself and pin it all on me.

I could still feel it—my body torn apart by rabid strays in the street, the helpless agony. But worst of all was the heartbreak.

She was my daughter. My own child. Why would she do that to me?

Just then, Priscilla, my mother-in-law, swept in, cradling her.

“Our sweet girl wants cheese fondue? Grandma will go buy ingredients right away!”

I forced a smile and steadied my voice.

“Mom, the teacher said Niah had a stomachache at school today. We should skip cheese fondue—maybe make something light for dinner instead.”

My daughter’s face twisted in outrage. Her voice cracked as she shouted, “Mommy’s lying! She said I’m a waste of money! She said I don’t deserve to eat good food! She said one day she’s gonna break my legs and cut out my tongue!”

She sobbed, trembling, and buried herself in Priscilla’s arms.

Harold, my father-in-law, who’d been reading the paper, looked up sharply and barked, “Your mom almost died giving birth to you, and this is how you repay her? You ungrateful little thing!”

Terrified, my daughter clung to Priscilla’s neck like her life depended on it.

“Grandma, I’m not lying! I don’t—I don’t wanna be kidnapped! Please save me!”

Priscilla gently stroked my daughter’s back, full of tender affection. “Don’t worry, sweetheart. Grandma’s here. You’re safe.”

Then she turned to her husband with a light scold. “She’s just a kid. She doesn’t know what she’s saying. Let’s not take it too seriously.”

Finally, she looked back at me. “No cheese fondue, then. Go out and buy some groceries.”

I nodded at first—but then I caught the smug little smile creeping onto my daughter’s face.

I froze.

That smile. She had worn the same one in my last life.

It was because I left the house that she was able to twist the story, saying I used the grocery trip as a cover to meet the kidnappers. And wouldn’t you know it—they really did find a few strange numbers in my call history!

But not this time!

I pulled out my phone and opened the delivery app.

“It’s raining today, Mom. Let’s just get groceries delivered.”

Disappointment flashed in Niah’s eyes. She bit her lip, sulking in silence while I smiled to myself.

‘No cheese fondue. No grocery trip. No setup. Let’s see how she plans to twist things now.’

That night, Tyson Drummond, my husband, returned from his business trip. We all sat around the dinner table, eating quietly—just a normal family meal, almost peaceful.

Tyson complimented my cooking, and my in-laws were all praises too.

Everyone seemed happy.

Everyone—except me.

I noticed it right away—my daughter’s eyes were restless, shifty. She was calculating something.

I glanced at my phone. Just two minutes left.

In my last life, this was the moment she plunged her hand into the cheese fondue and accused me of abuse.

I quickly opened my Photos app and checked again. Nothing. No weird photos, no strange videos.

That eased my nerves a little.

‘Not this time. I won’t let her pull the same stunt again!’

Then, she slammed her bowl down.

“I want cheese fondue!” she announced.

Internally, I scoffed. On the outside, I kept my voice soft and concerned.

“But your teacher said you’re not allowed to eat that, remember? Listen to us, sweetie, okay?”

She puffed up, face red, and screamed, “You’re lying! You’re abusing me! You want to kill me! Daddy, call the cops! Have her arrested!”

I watched her cry and scream, and my face turned cold.

“Fine,” I said. “Call them. Let’s see who’s really lying.”

She froze. Her eyes flickered with panic.

She hadn’t expected that.

Just as I thought I might finally avoid the disaster from my last life… she grabbed a fork from the table and dragged it across her cheek!

Collective gasps filled the room as blood trickled down my daughter’s face in bright, deep, red streaks.

“Mommy,” she sobbed, “my face… My face hurts so much! I can’t go to the livestream anymore! Please, Mommy, don’t hit me again! I’ll… I’ll be good. I’ll listen. Mommy, please…”

She did it again. She framed me—again.

Tyson’s face twisted in rage. He slapped me hard across the face.

“What the hell is going on, Sadie?! You pushed her this far?!”

My in-laws were in shock. Heartbroken. But they still tried to calm him down.

As our daughter cried and explained her version of events, Tyson snatched my phone to look for evidence.

I wasn’t worried. I had just checked. There was nothing there.

But as he scrolled, his face grew darker, like a storm brewing behind his eyes.

My in-laws, alarmed by the way he was breathing—heavy, furious—rushed over to look.

“Sadie!” Harold barked. “How could you force my granddaughter into this?!”

“What has our family ever done to you?” Priscilla cried. “How could you humiliate her like this?”

Harold was shaking. He was so angry he stood and flipped the dining table.

Priscilla was wiping tears, muttering that it all made sense now. “No wonder Niah has been acting so strange!”

So apparently, I’d been abusing her behind their backs all along?

“No! I didn’t do anything!” I shouted, louder and louder, but no one was listening.

Tyson’s eyes were bloodshot. He hit me, knocking me hard to the floor.

Then, he shoved the phone in my face. “There’s proof. It’s all here! And you—you still dare deny it?!”

His voice trembled not with fear, but with fury. Like he could tear me apart right there.

I stared at the screen in utter disbelief.

Dozens of photos. Some videos too. All of them brand new. All of them—horrifying!

In the clips, my daughter was dressed in different outfits and in poses inappropriate for her age, her face innocent and pitiful.

“Sir! Sir! Sir! Please, send me more gifts,” she whispered to the camera. “If you don’t, Mommy… Mommy will hit me!”

Her eyes glistened with fake tears as she begged, and the comment section made my skin crawl.

[Don’t cry, baby girl. I won’t let your mommy hit you! Gifts are on the way!]

[Where are you, Niah? Want some lollipops? I will buy you some!]

I was trembling all over. ‘N-No… This isn’t… This isn’t real! It can’t be real!’

I had checked my phone just minutes ago. There was nothing. Not a single photo. Not a single video.

“I didn’t tell her to do that!” I cried. “I don’t even know where that came from!”

I forced myself to sit up, my mind racing. ‘I kept the phone in my pocket all day. No one could’ve touched it! How—’

Just then, Tyson hit me again. Harder this time.

“I never expected you to be so cruel, Sadie! You forced your own daughter to do something like this?!” Tyson shouted. “You don’t even deserve to be a mother! You—You’re a monster!”

His slap left my ears ringing and my vision blurred. I turned my head just in time to meet my daughter’s eyes.

She looked pale from the pain, but there was a flicker of guilt barely hidden in her gaze.

‘It’s her!’ I realized.

I rushed over and grabbed her shoulders, demanding answers. “Niah, why did you lie and hurt Mommy?” I was almost crying. “I’ve always treated you well—why would you do this to me?!”

Terrified, my daughter broke down in tears and shrank away.

That only enraged her father further; Tyson raised his foot and kicked me again and again.

“Bitch! How dare you even ask that? You better pray your daughter’s okay!” He paused, and when he spoke, his voice came out threatening. “Or else—I’ll kill you!”

If it weren’t for my in-laws holding him back, I’m sure he would’ve beaten me to death right then.

“Just take Niah to the hospital already!” my in-laws urged.

Only then did Tyson stop and snort coldly. The three of them hurriedly carried our daughter to the hospital.

Despite everything, I was worried, so I followed closely behind.

Thank heavens, her injuries weren’t serious. After some disinfecting, bandaging, and an anti-inflammatory shot, she was okay.

By midnight, Tyson got a call to go on a business trip.

But our daughter suddenly started screaming wildly in his arms.

“Daddy, don’t leave! Mom said she’ll have someone kidnap me tonight! She’ll have them break my legs and cut out my tongue!” She sniffed and sobbed. “She wants to kill me!”

Tyson shot me a dark, hostile look.

I quickly shook my head and said it couldn’t be true. “If you don’t believe me, I’ll call the cops right now!”

But he snatched my phone, his teeth clenched. “Family matters stay inside the home! Do you want to ruin your daughter’s reputation?”

He hissed. “Or do you want everyone to know you forced her to do those shady things?”

When he turned to our daughter, he softened his voice. “Niah, Dad will have Grandpa and Grandma watch over you. If Mommy lays a finger on you, I’ll kill her!”

My in-laws had calmed down by then.

“There’s no way a mother would hurt her own child,” Priscilla said.

“Right. Besides, when Sadie gave birth to Niah, it was nearly a life-or-death situation for both of them. Niah’s her heart and soul. It’s impossible!” Harold chimed in.

He went on to speculate, “Maybe those photos and videos are fake. You know, with all the AI manipulation nowadays…”

I nodded through tears, deeply moved by how reasonable my in-laws were.

Our daughter curled up silently in Tyson’s arms, but her eyes challenged me even more fiercely.

Suddenly, like nothing happened, she said, “Mommy, I want you to put on a cartoon for me.”

I numbly opened the animation on my phone and held it up in front of her.

Ever since giving birth six years ago, I’d given up my career to raise her, going out of my way to meet every one of her demands, hoping she’d grow into a kind and understanding child.

But no matter how hard I tried, I couldn’t understand how she could suddenly turn into this.

After Tyson left, my in-laws and I stayed by her side.

I glanced at the clock—it was about two in the morning.

In my last life, my daughter disappeared from the hospital at exactly 2:10 a.m.

If I could make sure to stay by my in-laws’ side that entire night and watch over Niah, maybe those false accusations wouldn’t hold any weight.

And so I forced myself to stay strong and kept vigil with them.

But at exactly 2:00 a.m., Niah suddenly cried that she was hungry.

Because of her fussing during dinner, none of us had eaten all night.

I opened a delivery app, but all the restaurants near the hospital were closed at this hour.

Everything I could order was something she couldn’t eat, so reluctantly, Priscilla got up to buy some microwave burritos.

Since Harold was still here, I nodded in agreement.