Early the next morning, Mom woke me up like nothing had happened last night at all.

"Come on down, Viv. I made your favorite scrambled eggs for breakfast."

She smiled so lovingly and tenderly at me that I got a sudden chill down my back. Something felt fishy to me.

Dad was sitting at the head of the table with his nose buried in the morning newspaper. He didn't even bother glancing at me as I sat down.

"Help yourself to some more breakfast, Richard," Mom said, refilling his coffee mug while speaking in a sickly sweet voice.

This unnatural and awkward harmonious picture was a lot more alarming than her loud sobbing and crying last night.

What on earth was going on? Had Mom somehow found out about something?

After breakfast, Mom affectionately took my arm.

"Viv, come with Mom to the bank for a bit. I think there's something wrong with my card. You're familiar with these kinds of technology, so I'm going to borrow you for a bit."

I felt my heart sink into my stomach at her words.

None of this had happened in my past life.

Why did Mom suddenly ask me to accompany her to the bank?

Yet, as I didn't want her to get suspicious of me, I simply smiled and nodded at her.

"Okay."

…

When we were at the bank, Mom kept stalling at the counter.

"Wait, I think I forgot the password for this…"

The bank staff was obviously losing her patience with Mom when Mom suddenly grabbed my arm and said, "Viv, did you bring your ID with you? I need to use it for now. I'll make sure to transfer the money back to you later on."

However, the eager look in her eyes didn't make her seem like someone who had forgotten her account password at the bank. Rather, she looked like someone waiting for her victim to fall into her trap.

I suddenly recalled how she had taken away my ID and made a photocopy of it under the guise that she was helping me manage my finances.

Yet, a month later, an unknown loan had been taken out in my name.

"I didn't bring it, Mom," I said apologetically. "Do you want me to go back and ask Dad for his ID instead?"

Mom's expression darkened at once. She then forced a smile that looked very chilling.

"You're such a forgetful little brat. How could you lose your ID?"

She was quiet the rest of the way out of the bank. When we were almost home, however, she suddenly stopped short at the apartment building entrance and said, "Look, Viv! Isn't that old Mrs. Walters?"

I looked in the direction she was pointing and saw nobody. The entrance was completely empty.

"Where's Mrs. Walters?"

When I looked back, I suddenly felt my heart thumping loudly when I realized that Mom was very quickly withdrawing her hand from my coat pocket.

She had put something in it.

"Maybe I was mistaken," she said, walking away like nothing just happened.

I pretended not to notice anything and reached into my coat pocket. I immediately touched something hard and sharp that was rectangular-shaped.

It wasn't money.

While untying my shoelaces, I hurriedly brought the item out to glance at it and realized that it was a SIM card that I'd never seen before.

My heart suddenly froze.

What was she trying to do with my ID card and this SIM card, which had to be registered under someone's real name? Did my death in my past life have something to do with this?

When I thought about it, I remembered that the balcony railing had happened to break right at that moment, which was how I fell off of it in the first place.

Something was obviously very wrong with it.

That night, I flushed the SIM card into the toilet.

When I walked out of the toilet, Mom was standing at the door with a glass of warm milk in her hands and a gentle smile on her face.

"Here, have some warm milk before you go to sleep tonight, Viv. It'll help with calming down your nerves."

I stared at the white liquid in the glass.

In my past life, she would often show her "concern" toward me like this too.

"Thanks, Mom," I said, taking the glass from her. However, after going into my room, I poured the milk into my potted plant.

I was woken up that night by a slight stirring sound.

I saw that the light coming from the living room under my bedroom door was slightly blocked off by something in front of it.

Or someone who was standing at my door.

I held my breath and heard Mom's low voice. She was speaking into the phone with a smile in her voice. I didn't know who was on the other end of the call.

"It's all been arranged… I promise that nothing will go wrong this time.

"After all, she failed the test last time, didn't she?"

My blood ran cold at Mom's words.

Test? What test was she talking about?

Her footsteps eventually vanished into the night, but I couldn't sleep a wink the entire night.

Early the next morning, Mom was busy in the kitchen again.

"You're up, Viv. I made you your favorite oat porridge this time," she said, spooning up the hot porridge, blowing on it to cool it down, and bringing it to my lips.

"Hurry up and eat it."

I looked at her without moving.

Her eyes turned red at once.

"I know that you've been bottling up your emotions lately. But that doesn't mean you should starve yourself to death!"

I took the bowl from her and said, "I can feed myself."

I then took a spoonful of the oat porridge and pretended I was about to eat it. Then, I overturned the bowl and spilled the rest of it over my clothes.

"Ah!"

Mom exclaimed loudly and quickly jumped to her feet. There was a hint of disappointment in her eyes. It wasn't a look of concern. Rather, she seemed frustrated to have her plans upset again.

Yet, the look quickly turned into one of feigned concern and heartache for me.

"Did you burn yourself? You clumsy little thing!"

She rushed over to me as she hurriedly wiped off the porridge from me, but she also kept digging her nails into my flesh in the meantime.

Half an hour later, I began feeling an excruciating pain in my stomach. I rushed into the bathroom and began throwing up half of the contents in my stomach.

Mom stood at the door, not sounding the least bit panicked at all. In fact, she seemed to have expected my reaction as she said calmly, "See? This is what happens when you don't eat your breakfast properly. Your stomach's all upset now."

I felt my vision go black, and cold sweat seeped through my clothes.

Dad smelled the acidity in the air and asked, "What's going on?"

Mom immediately went into her acting mode and pointed at me with an upset, heartbroken look on her face.

"Your daughter's being difficult and extremely picky with her food again! She complained again about how terrible my cooking was, and see what happened to her? She's gone and given herself gastritis now!"

A split second later, however, she looked at me with an understanding expression and patted me tenderly on the head.

"It's fine. I'm not going to hold it against her anyway.

"Come on, Richard. Let's send our poor daughter to the hospital."

…

The doctor at the hospital took a look at me and said, "She has severe food poisoning. Her stomach needs to be pumped immediately."

The nurse came over with the consent form and said, "The patient needs to fast before the procedure. No food and drinks, please."

I nodded weakly.

Yet, Mom grabbed the nurse's wrist tightly and exclaimed, "No way! She refused to eat anything for days! She can't go hungry before the procedure!"

"Mrs. Larson, this is standard procedure—"

"What bullshit procedure? My daughter is about to die from malnutrition!"

Mom then stood up, suddenly produced a thermal container of the oat porridge from before, and said, "Listen to me, Vivian Larson! Take a bite of this. Just one bite will do!"

She then nudged the spoonful of porridge firmly against my lips.

I shut my lips tightly and refused to eat it, even turning my head away from her.

"Mom… Doctor said… No food…"

"What does the doctor know! I'm doing this for your own good!" she cried, almost on the verge of tears. "Are you trying to starve yourself to death?"

She then forcefully pulled me back to face her by my shoulder. I still kept my mouth tightly shut. She spilled the porridge all over my face, and I frowned hard in pain.

"The patient needs to fast before the procedure!" the nurse cried, trying to stop Mom.

Mom shoved the nurse away angrily and said, "She is my daughter! I am the one who has the final say!"

The scene was a mess.

The doctor rushed over when he heard what was going on and questioned sternly, "What are you trying to do, Mrs. Larson?"

Mom immediately let go of me. She took a step backward as tears immediately flooded her face. Then, she pointed a finger at my nose and began crying hysterically, "Doctor! Talk some sense into her!

"She was so hungry that she wouldn't stop crying and insisted on eating something first! I didn't have any other choice…"

I lay on the bed, feeling a cold chill run down my spine as I watched Mom's performance.

The doctor frowned. "The patient obviously refused to eat just now."

Mom's cries stopped at once. Her eyes doubled in size as she stared incredulously at the doctor, then at me, like she was the one being mistreated.

"Viv… How could you! How could you lie to me like that? You were the one who begged me to buy the porridge for you just now!"

She then looked at the other patients in the ward, as if she were trying to find some other people to support her.

"This daughter of mine… She's too stubborn for words… She won't stop torturing me even though she's so sick…"

The doctor couldn't be bothered to continue indulging her performance anymore and wheeled me straight into the operating theatre to pump my stomach.

Even until the moment the tube was inserted into my throat, I couldn't stop staring at Mom's figure outside the door.

She was standing in the hallway, and I could see the slightest hint of a smile on her lips then.

After the stomach-pumping procedure, the doctor had me wheeled out of the theater. However, he'd only just left before Mom immediately pounced on me like a vulture.

"Viv… I know that you're in pain," she said. Tears were plopping down her face like they were coming from a leaky water faucet. They looked very real. "It's all our fault… As your mom and dad, we should have taken better care of you…"

Dad stood next to her, and his face was ashen.

Mom suddenly turned to him and shakily said, "Richard, Viv was mumbling incoherently in her sleep just now…"

I felt my heart clench at her words. I didn't know what she was up to again this time.

The next second, she suddenly gripped my hand and said in an aggrieved tone, "She said… She said that she's had enough of this family… She begged me to divorce you!"

Dad immediately glared daggers at me.

Mom continued fanning the fire. "She said that you were a useless, good-for-nothing person, and she would rather die than admit that you're her father!"

"That's nonsense!"

I fought to sit up, but my throat was literally burning in pain like it was being licked by fire.

Mom pinned me back onto the bed and began sobbing uncontrollably.

"Richard! Look at how our daughter turned out! Would I still be lying to you about everything? I heard her say it herself!"

Dad's chest began to heave as his eyes turned redder and redder with each second.

"You insolent brat!"

Dad shoved Mom aside and lunged toward me.

"No, Dad! She's lying!"

Mom hugged Dad's waist from behind him as she screamed at me, "Run, Vivian! Run! Your Dad's going to kill you!"

She looked like she was trying to stop Dad from hurting me. However, she was actually pushing him closer and closer toward me.

Her words triggered Dad so much that he had completely lost control of himself. He grabbed the glass on the table and flung it at my head.

I flipped over in bed, and the glass missed me and smashed into pieces on the floor.

"You ingrate! You damn brat!"

Dad shook Mom off of him and pounced on me like an angry tiger.

I rushed out of the ward and ran straight for the stairs instead.

"Stop her! Don't let her do anything stupid!" Mom screamed at the top of her lungs from behind me. Her voice was tinged with excitement.

Dad was right on my heels.

I was still weak after having just had my stomach pumped, and Dad easily caught up to me a short while later.

He then dragged me into the car and brought me home. No matter how much I begged and pleaded with him, he only coldly said to me, "I'm going to deal with you once we're home."

The door was kicked open, and Dad then flung me onto the floor once we were home.

"I'm going to beat you to death if that's the last thing I do today!" Dad roared, pouncing on me and grabbing a handful of my hair. He dragged me out toward the balcony.

"You were trying to push your mom to the brink of death, weren't you? Well, you can go and die in her place!"

Mom lunged at him and grabbed Dad by the arm. She screamed, "No, Richard! You can't do it! She's your daughter!"

However, she placed herself right in what would be my path to safety, so I couldn't retreat to the living room.

Dad then shoved me out toward the open balcony.

My back was thrown smack against the railing, and it began making a creaky, metallic sound.

Dad then started storming toward me. His fists were clenched tightly beside him.

"Dad! Look at Mom! Look at what she's doing!" I screamed in my hoarse voice.

However, Dad's eyes were bloodshot, and he refused to listen to a single word I said.

Mom was crouching over on Dad's right. She looked like she was helplessly grabbing onto the railing while crying and pleading for him to reconsider.

"Please, Richard, don't do this to our daughter…"

Yet, her right hand was in Dad's blind spot, and she cleverly shielded her movements as she began removing the loose screws at the bottom of the railing at top speed. The screws were already loosened from the very beginning, and Mom was unscrewing them silently with much practised ease.

In my past life, that very screw had also popped loose in this way.

Why was Mom so desperate to kill me? Was I still going to have to suffer the same fate in this life too?

That was just too unfair!

I glared at Mom's face as I watched her performance. Then, I suddenly understood something.

So, that was the reason why!

It had all finally dawned on me!

That had to be why Mom was so desperate to kill me!