Abuse My Kid? Meet My Wrath

Ever since we brought our six-year-old daughter, Elise, home, she's been keeping her distance.

My husband, Patrick Sheeter, chalked it up to "adjustment issues." Told me to bring her more gifts when I got back from my overseas trip.

I was halfway out the door when I heard her voice in my head.

'Should I tell Mom that Della always hits me?

'Dad says Mom hates tattletales. Especially me.

'But if I keep quiet, I might not make it till Mom gets back.'

My stomach flipped. I turned around. Elise was curled up in the corner, eyes glassy with tears.

Silent. But I still heard her.

'Maybe I lived again just to see Mom one more time.'

Patrick, noticing I was frozen, casually reminded me I was gonna miss my flight.

Right. Like that mattered.

I turned and slapped him so hard.

Screw the business trip. I was staying. Let's see who's got the guts to mess with my kid now.

Patrick clutched his cheek, eyes wide like he couldn't believe I actually hit him.

Yeah, I had a strong personality. But I'd never slapped anyone before.

Realizing I wasn't messing around, he mumbled something about work and bolted.

The second he left, Elise shrank behind a pillar.

'Mom really is as scary as Dad said.'

Ouch. That one stung.

The slap wasn't planned—it was pure panic. Elise had just said she might not make it till I got back. I wasn't thinking, just reacting.

Sure, I could be hot-headed, but violent? Never—until today.

So why the hell was Patrick telling her I was scary?

Elise had spent six years in an orphanage after the whole birth mix-up mess. When we finally brought her home, Patrick went full helicopter dad—he even made a checklist for how to act around her.

We'd been married forever. He always put up with my temper and usually took the lead with the kids.

He wouldn't badmouth me to Elise... right? She must've twisted something he said.

But seeing her curled up behind that pillar, all small and guarded, I just wanted to reach her.

I crouched and smiled. "I'm not working today. Wanna check out your new school with me?"

Her face lit up. She nodded like crazy.

I scooped her into my arms—and then I heard her again:

'Mom smells so nice. Her arms are so warm.

'Too bad the first time she held me in my last life, I was already dead. I couldn't feel the warmth.'

That one hit me straight in the chest.

If Elise was right, then in her last life, I was probably already on a plane by now.

Not this time. I was staying—and I was gonna find out exactly who thought it was okay to put hands on my kid.

I'd just helped Elise into her new outfit and ran upstairs to grab my bag.

That's when I heard it—Della, the girl we'd raised by mistake, shrieking at Elise. "You hick! Who said you could wear that?

"That dress is mine! I'm the only princess in this house!

"You piece of trash—this isn't your home, even if you're here!"

Then she lunged and yanked at Elise's clothes.