My Daughter Slandered Me, Then I Discovered the Horrendous Truth Why
Chapter 2
Garth's POV
That evening, Naomi returned home from her competition out of town. So, the whole family gathered around the dinner table, chatting and laughing over a homemade meal.
Naomi complimented my cooking, and even my in-laws couldn’t stop singing my praises.
But I wasn’t smiling.
While everyone was relaxed and enjoying themselves, I noticed something off—my daughter kept glancing around, her eyes darting as if she was plotting something.
I checked the time on my phone. We were exactly two minutes away from the moment she had shoved her hand into the boiling Italian Tripe Soup in my previous life and falsely accused me.
As such, I quickly opened my photo gallery, scanning through it carefully. But no strange pictures. Nothing out of place.
A small sigh of relief escaped me.
Not this time. I wasn’t going to let her set me up again.
Right then, she dropped her bowl and loudly declared, “I want Italian Tripe Soup!”
Internally, I scoffed. But I kept my tone calm and concerned.
“Sweetie, your teacher said you had an upset stomach today. Let’s not eat Italian Tripe Soup tonight, okay?”
She puffed up her cheeks in rage and shrieked, “Daddy’s lying! He’s doing this on purpose! He's abusing and trying to kill me! Mommy, call the police! Tell them to arrest him!”
She cried dramatically, and all eyes turned to me. But this time, I wasn’t backing down.
“Fine,” I said coldly. “Let’s call the police. Let’s see who’s really lying here.”
At my words, my daughter froze, a flicker of panic in her eyes.
She clearly hadn’t expected me to push back like this.
Just when I thought I had finally gotten the upper hand, she snatched a fork from the table and, in one swift motion, slashed it down her own face.
Gasps echoed around the table.
Blood streamed down from the scratches she left on her cheeks.
Through sobs, she cried out again, her voice trembling with fear, “Daddy… my face… I can’t stream for those nice uncles anymore… please stop hitting me. I’ll be good, I promise…”
She was doing it again, framing me.
Naomi stood up so fast that her chair nearly toppled over. Without hesitation, she slapped me across the face.
“What the hell is going on?!” she shouted. “You pushed her this far?!”
My in-laws were stunned and heartbroken, but they still tried to calm Naomi down.
Through broken sobs, our daughter explained her “side of the story.”
Naomi grabbed my phone to find proof—whatever “evidence” our daughter was talking about.
I wasn’t worried. I had already checked my phone earlier. There was nothing there.
But as she scrolled through my photo gallery, her expression grew darker and darker.
Her breathing turned ragged. She looked like she was about to explode.
My in-laws rushed over to see what was going on.
“Garth!” my father-in-law shouted, shaking with fury. “How could you do this to my granddaughter?! After everything our family’s done for you, this is how you repay us?!”
He shoved the table over in rage.
My mother-in-law, crying now, yelled through tears, “No wonder Zelene said those things earlier! So you have been abusing her all along!”
I shouted back that I didn’t do it—that I had no idea what they were talking about!
But Naomi's eyes were red with fury. She kicked me to the ground and shoved the phone in my face.
“Still trying to lie your way out of this? The evidence is right here!”
Her voice was shaking. She looked like she wanted to tear me apart.
I stared at the screen.
There were dozens of photos and videos that hadn’t been there before.
Each one showed my daughter dressed in different cutesy outfits, making sad, timid poses. Her eyes were wide and filled with fear.
In one video, she pleaded tearfully at the camera, “Uncles, please send Zelene some gifts, or Daddy will hit me again.”
Her voice trembled, and her eyes brimmed with tears.
The comments on the screen made my skin crawl.
[Don’t be scared, Zelene. I'll send you gifts right now.]
[Where do you live, sweetheart? I'll bring you candy.]
On and on they went.
I started shaking.
This couldn’t be real.
I just checked my phone minutes ago. None of this was on it!
“This isn’t me! I didn’t take these! I don’t even know where these photos and videos came from!”
I was trying to hold it together, but my voice cracked as I spoke.
My mind was spinning, scrambling for any memory, any explanation.
How the hell had this happened?
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