My five-year-old daughter jumped to her death at school. While her teacher frantically called and texted, I calmly turned off my phone and watched a movie. In my past life, I'd rushed there in panic—only to find her lifeless body. The teacher claimed my daughter confessed to enduring long-term beatings before jumping. Even my husband accused me of abuse. Yet I'd cherished her, never raising a hand or voice. When the medical examiner revealed her body—covered in years of bruises—I became society's monster. My parents were driven to suicide after online harassment bankrupted them. I died in prison, beaten by inmates. I never understood: how could my pampered child have those injuries? Now reborn on the day of her death, I'll uncover the truth. 1 "Honey, come have breakfast. I learned to make this just for you." Markus, ever the gentle and attentive husband, brought a tray of breakfast and placed it in front of me. Looking at his familiar, soft smile, a shiver ran down my spine. Markus had married into my family. Since our wedding day, he had been a stay-at-home dad, taking care of me and our daughter, Lily. For years, he had been meticulous and thoughtful, attending to our every need. My friends all said I had found the perfect man, a man as gentle as water. I had believed them. If only, in my last life, he hadn't stood before a crowd, his eyes blazing with fury, and accused me of being a monster who abused her own child. I never would have known that this mild-mannered man had such a twisted side. "Honey, what are you daydreaming about? Come on, eat up." Markus waved a hand in front of my face. Suppressing the storm of confusion and rage in my heart, I sat down at the table. Across from me, my daughter was taking small sips of her milk. My eyes instantly turned red. Today was the day. After she finished breakfast and went to school, she would jump from the building. When I arrived, all I would see was her body. I would hold her cold form, crying until I nearly passed out. But her teacher would point at me, telling me to stop my fake tears. I wouldn't understand. She would declare, with righteous indignation, that my daughter had jumped because of my long-term domestic abuse. That my daughter had even confessed she would rather die than go home. As I was arguing with the teacher, Markus would arrive. I would be filled with hope, expecting him to clear my name. But he would stand before the crowd, his eyes red, and roar at me. "From the day I married into your family, you've done nothing but beat and curse me! You never treated me like a human being!" "For Lily's sake, I endured it all." "I told you, you can do whatever you want to me, but why did you have to do this to our daughter?" "I begged you countless times! Why did you have to push her to her death?!" His words were daggers, his voice thick with tears. He would list my supposed "atrocities" for all to hear, painting me as a sadistic monster who reveled in cruelty. My desperate explanations would be drowned out by the jeers and curses of the crowd. Then the medical examiner would arrive. He would reveal the dense network of scars covering my daughter's body. Old injuries and new, a testament to long-term abuse. "Even a tiger won't eat its own cub! This woman is worse than an animal!" "Someone like her doesn't deserve a husband or a child! She doesn't deserve to live!" "Her poor daughter, stuck with such an inhuman monster!" "Letting her live another second is a pollution to the earth!" With the "irrefutable evidence" before them, the insults would rain down. Some people in the crowd would even throw trash and rocks at me, wishing they could kill me on the spot. Amidst the storm of hatred, I would be handcuffed and taken away. In an instant, hashtags like #EvilMother, #VenomousWoman, and #PoorFatherAndDaughter would dominate the internet. I would be subjected to the most vicious online abuse and curses imaginable. My parents, too, would be doxxed. Their company would go bankrupt. They would be trapped in their home, unable to leave without being pelted with filth and screamed at. Eventually, they would die in their home, their bodies left to rot. And I would be tortured to death by my fellow inmates. Even as I died, I never understood. Why would my pampered daughter have a body covered in scars and jump to her death? The pain of my past life was still vivid. This time, I would uncover the truth. 2 I ate my breakfast as usual. When Markus was about to take our daughter to school, I stopped him. "Lily's hair is a bit messy. Let me brush it for her." I led my daughter into the bathroom and closed the door. Without a word, I lifted her shirt. Her skin was smooth as jade, without a single bruise. It was a world away from the scarred body of my last life. So, what went wrong? Why, in just a few hours, would her body be covered in injuries, both new and old? "Honey, are you done yet? Lily's going to be late." Markus's voice, accompanied by a knock on the door, pulled me from my thoughts. I opened the door and looked at him. "I'll take her to school today." A flicker of confusion crossed his face, quickly replaced by a gentle smile. "Okay, honey. Thank you for doing that." He turned and began clearing the table without another word. His reaction was so normal, so unremarkable, that it was chilling. The more normal he acted, the more desperate I was to find the truth. On the way to school, I couldn't help but ask my daughter, "Lily, has anyone at school been bullying you?" She smiled sweetly. "No, Mommy. I'm very popular at school. Everyone likes to play with me." I paused. "What about your teachers? Are they nice to you?" "My teachers are all very nice! My homeroom teacher even tells me stories and gives me little presents." Her answers were natural and cheerful, her young face a picture of happiness. I pulled the car over and looked at her seriously. "And what about me? How do you think Mommy treats you?" She looked at me with her clear, wide eyes and answered without hesitation. "Mommy is very nice to me too." Then she leaned over and gave me a kiss on the cheek. "Lily loves Mommy the most!" I hugged her, saying nothing more, and drove her to the kindergarten. Her teacher was waiting at the gate. "Lily's mom! What a nice surprise to see you bringing her to school today." The teacher greeted me with a warm smile, taking Lily's hand. "It's a slow day at the office," I replied, smiling back while subtly observing her. She crouched down, still smiling, and playfully tapped Lily's nose. "See, Lily? Your mommy loves you so much. She's so busy with work, but she still made time to bring you to school." The teacher's demeanor was friendly and natural. Even the way she looked at my daughter seemed genuine and full of affection. She didn't seem like a two-faced hypocrite at all. But that only made me more confused. In my last life, I had a decent relationship with this teacher. She was kind, treated my daughter well, and was always smiling. The kids in her class adored her. I had tried to treat her to dinner several times to thank her for taking such good care of Lily, but she always refused, saying it was just her duty as a teacher. In my mind, she was a dedicated, fair, and excellent educator. Yet this same upright and easygoing woman, in just a few hours, would publicly accuse me of being a monster who abused her child. I couldn't figure out where it all went wrong. 3 There were three hours until my daughter was supposed to jump. But I was still completely in the dark. The thought of my vibrant daughter suddenly becoming a cold corpse made me break out in a cold sweat. In my last life, everything happened so suddenly that I was powerless to stop it. This time, I would not let the tragedy repeat itself. After a brief chat with the teacher, I left. But I didn't go far. I parked nearby and continued to watch. I stayed in my car even after the school gates closed and classes began, my mind racing. Why, when I had done nothing wrong, did I become a universally condemned monster? Why was my daughter perfectly fine when she left the house, only to be covered in years of old injuries and jump to her death after just a few hours at school? Why did my thoughtful husband and the kind, upright teacher both turn on me at the same time, accusing me of crimes I didn't commit? The questions swirled in my head, leaving me more and more confused. I knew something was terribly wrong, but I couldn't put my finger on it. I forced myself to replay the events of my past life, searching for any clue, any thread that might unravel this mystery. After forty minutes of intense concentration, it hit me. A flash of insight. I immediately called my secretary. "I need you to find something out for me. Quickly." After giving my instructions, I waited in the car, my heart pounding in my chest. I desperately needed to know if I was finally close to the truth. Ten minutes later, he called back with his findings. Listening to his report, my hand holding the phone began to shake uncontrollably. It was just as I suspected. "I need you to do something for me," I said, my voice firm. "As fast as possible. Spare no expense. And remember, don't tell anyone." After hanging up, I drove away from the school. Two hours later, the teacher's calls began. One after another, frantic and insistent. When I didn't answer, she started sending texts. "Lily's mom, something terrible has happened! Your daughter jumped from the school building! You need to get here right away!" "Lily's mom, why aren't you answering your phone? Please come to the school as soon as you see this!" The urgent messages kept coming. I simply turned off my phone and went back to watching the movie I had started in the company lounge. Half an hour later, the movie ended. I turned my phone back on to find every major social media platform flooded with curses and insults directed at me. Many people were live-streaming. From the kindergarten. In the video, Lily's teacher was weeping, her voice thick with heartbreak. "Lily was always such a good girl. All the kids and teachers at school loved her. I just don't understand how her mother could do this to her, beat her so badly." "Once, Lily cried to me, saying she would rather die than go home. I thought she was joking. I never thought she would actually jump." "She was only five years old! How much suffering must she have endured to choose this path?" "I've called her mother a dozen times, and she won't answer. She won't reply to my texts. It's as if her daughter's death means nothing to her. How can there be such a cold, heartless mother in this world?" The teacher then played a video on her phone. In the video, my daughter spoke in a small, timid voice. "Miss Davis, you can have all the candy in my backpack. Please, just don't make me go home. My mommy hits me every day. I'm so scared of her. I don't want to go home." Her eyes were filled with tears, her face a mask of terror. The sight made the teacher herself break down, covering her face as she sobbed. The live-stream's popularity skyrocketed. The comments were a torrent of grief for my daughter and vile hatred for me. Markus was there too, clutching our daughter's body, wailing for the cameras. "Sophia's family is rich, and she always looked down on me for marrying into it! At home, she was a tyrant! The slightest thing would set her off, and she would beat me and Lily! She never treated us like human beings!" He rolled up his sleeves, showing the bruises on his arms to the camera. "I tried to divorce her, but she threatened that I would never see Lily again. I couldn't bear to leave my daughter, so I endured it. But I never imagined she would drive Lily to suicide! I regret it so much! Why did I ever marry such a venomous, cold-hearted monster!" Just like in my past life, Markus delivered a heart-wrenching performance, his pain and grief palpable. The audience was enraged. "Oh my god, how can such a disgusting woman exist?" "She doesn't even deserve to be called human! Her parents must be trash too, to raise a monster like her! I hope they all die a horrible death!" "I'm shaking with anger! Someone please do us all a favor and get rid of her! My keyboard can't do enough damage!" The internet mob was in a frenzy, all of them seemingly desperate to see me destroyed. The power of public condemnation was terrifying. In my last life, faced with my daughter's body, my husband's betrayal, and the entire internet's hatred, my spirit had been crushed. I was defenseless, unjustly imprisoned, and tortured to death. Even my parents had been dragged down with me. But this time, as the same scene played out, as the curses and insults flooded my screen, I felt no turmoil. Instead, I felt a thrilling sense of vengeance. I put away my phone and drove to the kindergarten. Seeing the massive crowd surrounding the scene, a small smile played on my lips. The show was about to begin.
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