The Daughter Who Doesn't Listen to Advice

I had dreams of making my daughter a global superstar, but boredom got the better of her, and she wound up as a stripper, chasing clicks and likes.

When the cutthroat industry nearly swallowed her whole, I pulled out all the stops to rescue her and tried to reboot her career.

She dismissed me as useless and fell further, becoming the plaything of a high roller.

She ignored my warnings, got scarred by his wife in a jealous rage, and then got dumped like yesterday's news.

With nothing left to lose, she torched my house, watching me burn with a grin of relief—it turned out she'd resented my interference all along.

Then, out of nowhere, I got a do-over. I overheard her saying she wanted to drop out of school.

I didn't hesitate—I agreed right away and made the arrangements posthaste.

1

After a decade of dance classes, she got into a prestigious performing arts school abroad.

Everyone was singing her praises—and mine for being such a powerhouse mom.

But she couldn't hack it for even a month before sneaking back and throwing down the gauntlet, "Mom, I'm done with school. I'm dropping out! And if you try to stop me, I'll jump right here and now!"

Sitting on the sofa, I slowly opened my eyes at her threat.

It was surreal—I had somehow been given a second chance at life.

After being burned alive by my own daughter, here I was, alive again.

Seeing no reaction from me, she vaulted onto the railing of our apartment on the 15th floor, upping the ante, "Mom, if you don't want me dead, better say yes quick!"

Her legs dangled precariously as she swung them, the breeze making her look like she could blow away any second.

I watched her, clearly scared yet swinging harder.

"Haha..."

Honestly, I laughed—it was a laugh of disbelief.

So, this was the daughter I'd sacrificed so much for? Ready to throw away her decade-long training and future just to drop out and chase after fleeting fame.

I nodded reluctantly.

"Alright, I'll take care of it," I conceded.

She paused, apparently shocked by my swift agreement.

I wasn't in the mood to chat. Turning away, I began to walk inside, but her doubtful voice stopped me.

"Mom, you're always plotting and scheming, trying to manipulate me into doing what you want."

"If you weren't so fake, maybe Dad wouldn't have left. You know that, right? Even our relatives can't stand you, and even your own mother gives you the cold shoulder!"

"You're not exactly Mother Teresa, so cut the crap with me! I'm your only daughter—don't push me to hate you."

Her words were like daggers, stabbing straight to the heart.

My very own daughter knew exactly how to hurt me most.

Once upon a time, my parents yanked me out of school to marry me off to some guy fifteen years older, just for a chunk of change to buy my brother a house.

At first, my ex was kind enough, at least until our daughter was born. Then he showed his true colors.

He'd had three daughters with his ex and didn't want another "financial burden".

My own child—I couldn't bear to let her suffer. Barely out of confinement, I fled with her into the night.

We scraped by, but I managed to raise her on my own. She took to singing and dancing, and I steered her towards showbiz, accidentally becoming her manager in the process.

When she was just starting to make a name for herself, my ex and my parents showed up, looking to cash in on my success, smearing my name and even kidnapping her.

I slaved away for years to satisfy their greed, finally wresting her back and securing full custody.

But...

The memories of being burned alive haunted me; the pain was dull and relentless.

Now, I glanced back; she'd climbed down from the railing, only to clamber right back up after seeing me turn.

2

The innocent face before me morphed into the deranged one from the fire that killed me.

Her last words echoed in my mind: her hatred for my meddling, for growing up without a dad, for my distance from our relatives that kept her from more support...

By some miracle, I'd been given another shot, and I wasn't about to blow it this time.

She continued her defiance.

I moved closer, voice icy, "Go ahead, jump. If you've got the guts, do it now! Either way, whether you're hurt or worse, the school will kick you out."

She looked at me, wide-eyed and in disbelief.

"Mom?"

A smirk crossed my face, "You were going to use your life to manipulate me, right? Like you said, I'm not the good guy here, so can you really trust me?"

"Mom..."

"So go ahead, jump. I'll just watch."

I stared at her, unblinking, as time slowly passed. She started to panic.

A fierce gust of wind rocked her, her scream piercing as she nearly lost her grip.

Terrified, she looked down, then shut her eyes tight.

I snorted, my voice thick with scorn.

Anger flashed across her face, but she remained frozen, a hint of pleading in her eyes as if to say, "Mom, why won't you back down?"

The more I coddled her, the more she pushed boundaries, even risking her life to win an argument. Such an irresponsible daughter.

At that point, I was done. Let her make her own choices.

I turned to go back inside.

Just then, the door burst open, revealing a person I didn't want to see.

My cousin Shannon, sold off like me for a dowry, had barely survived her husband's abuse.

When I found her, pitiful and pleading, I couldn't help but intervene.

I had dug deep into my pockets to rescue her and even found her a job.

But gratitude turned to betrayal.

Behind my back, Shannon had been stirring up my daughter against me, deepening her disdain.

And all this came to light only after my daughter had killed me in the previous life.

3

"Aunt Shannon! You finally made it! I'm telling you, Mom's gonna kill me! She literally wants me dead!"

Shannon rushed over, scooping my daughter off the railing, her voice dripping with concern, "Oh, honey, are you okay? Did you get hurt at all? Let me have a look!"

My daughter started bawling her eyes out—loudly, though her cheeks were dry.

It was the same old story, spinning the truth until it was inside out.

"You've gotta stand up for me, Auntie! Mom's lost it, pushing me way too hard. That school she sent me to? It's a total nightmare—non-stop classes, I hardly get any sleep! All I wanted was to come home for a break, and she was pushing me to the edge! I can't take it anymore!"

Even though I was used to her dramatics, hearing it now still made me burst out laughing.

That school is a top-notch dance academy where nobody slacks off. Everyone there is gunning for perfection.

Yet here she was, ready to throw it all away over a hissy fit.

Shannon decided to chime in with her two cents, playing the peacemaker.

"Jenny, word around town is you've gotten really harsh. Going through a tough time, maybe? Emily is your only kid, you shouldn't push her so hard. What would people back home think? They'd just gossip about you some more."

Emily piped up, "Exactly, Mom, you always make waves. Without me and Aunt Shannon, who'd even stick by you?"

I had to laugh at the absurdity—it was just more manipulation and gaslighting.

My daughter, so confident in my unconditional love, took me for granted in the worst ways.

While they continued their duo performance, I grabbed my phone and called my secretary.

"Hello, Ms. Collins?" my secretary answered the phone.

"You handled my daughter's enrollment, right? Well, it's time to take care of her withdrawal too."

"Oh, uh, okay... Wait, withdrawal? But, ma'am, that's..."

I interrupted, more forcefully, "Just get it done."

He quickly agreed and hung up.

"I've canceled your enrollment. Are you satisfied now?"

She'd achieved her aim, but she bit her lip and pouted, clearly not happy.

She hesitated, then shot back, "Mom, you... you don't have any more tricks up your sleeve, do you?"

Shannon added her piece, "Jenny, Emily's your daughter, not one of your business deals. Those cutthroat tactics you use won't do her any good. It could really hurt her."

Their eyes locked on me, so similar in their judgment.

As a single mom who made it in a tough industry with no degree, of course, my methods weren't always clean.

Yet here they were, enjoying the fruits of my labor, all the while echoing sexist notions that I was too harsh and not nurturing enough.

They even teamed up with my ex, of all people.

Hilarious, really.

"Rest assured, I won't interfere anymore."

Their smiles bloomed, thinking they'd won.

But before they could revel in it, I added, "And don't expect another dime from me either."

Their expressions froze, shocked and disbelieving.

I walked back inside and shut the door behind me.

The walls might muffle sound, but I could still hear my daughter's furious, scornful shouting clear as day.

She hurled every filthy insult she could muster, vowing to cut me off and make me regret it when she made it big—claimed even if I begged, she'd never forgive me.

4

Shannon captured it all and posted it online.

Her post pretended to be sympathetic, but it was really just thinly veiled digs, exposing our private struggles to everyone.

Sure enough, my ex loved the gossip and came looking for me.

"Jenny Collins, I always said you couldn't handle raising a girl properly, and you proved me right. All that drive isn't good for a woman; look where it got you—pushing her into a fancy school only to have her drop out. What's the point of a woman learning so much? Just ruins her brain."

I shot back with a sneer, "Then maybe you shouldn't be spending the money that this woman earns."

True, my daughter longed for a father figure, which kept her in touch with him.

Over the years, he'd siphoned off quite a bit of money from her.

In my more naive days, I overlooked these small amounts for her sake.

But not anymore.

I canceled all her credit cards and hired the best lawyer I could find, aiming to claw back every cent through the courts.

Even if I couldn't recover the money, dragging my ex and my parents through a prolonged legal battle would at least give them a taste of their own medicine. In a small town, a long-drawn lawsuit can do wonders for tainting reputations.

I've never been short on tactics to deal with troublemakers.

And to think I let such people push me around for the sake of an ungrateful daughter.

Looking back, maybe I deserved what happened in my past life.

Within the hour, my phone was ringing off the hook. Calls from my parents, and relatives, all trying to verbally drown me.

I blocked every single one without hesitation.

Two hours later, my daughter tried to call. I didn't pick up, just added her to the block list.

When she couldn't reach me by phone, she showed up in person days later.

Arms akimbo, commanding the room, she demanded, "What gives you the right to insult Dad? To block our family? To cut off my cards?"

"Aunt Shannon's right—you just want to control my life, going after Dad and everyone else just to isolate me."

"If you want me to acknowledge you as my mom, you better apologize and give Dad five hundred grand."