My Daughter Won't Die Again Calling Me the Killer

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.