Garth's POV
At a family dinner, my six-year-old daughter suddenly shoved her hand into the boiling Italian Tripe Soup, bursting into tears as she begged me for mercy.
“Daddy, it hurts… I can't do a live stream anymore… but please don’t hit me. I’ll be good, I promise…”
My wife, Naomi Carpenter, a former boxing champion, was furious when she heard that. She snatched my phone, only to find that my photo gallery was filled with pictures of our daughter.
Without another word, she beat the living hell out of me and warned that if I ever laid a finger on our daughter again, she’d kill me herself.
Not long after, she had to leave town for a business trip. Our daughter clung to her leg, sobbing uncontrollably.
“Mommy, don’t go! Daddy’s gonna have people kidnap me tonight! They’re gonna break my legs and cut out my tongue!”
Everyone in the family just thought she was being dramatic.
But then… it actually happened.
She was found with both legs broken and her tongue cut out.
With her own blood, she wrote a single sentence on the ground.
[Daddy did it. He’s going to kill me.]
Naomi completely lost it. She almost beat me to death. My in-laws also stepped in and convinced her to get a divorce. As such, I was kicked out of the house with nothing but clothes on my back.
I bled out in the street, eventually torn apart by wild dogs.
When I opened my eyes again, I was back on that very same day, the day my daughter accused me.
——
“Daddy, I want Italian Tripe Soup tonight!” My daughter's childish voice rang in my ears.
I froze.
Looking at her innocent face, I saw the glint in her eyes—cold and calculating. The kind of look a cat gives when it's toying with a dying mouse.
And I… was the mouse.
A chill climbed up my spine.
In my last life, I made Italian Tripe Soup just like she asked. That gave her the perfect excuse to hurt herself and blame it on me.
The memory of being torn apart by dogs in the rain still burned in my mind. But what hurt more… was my heart.
She was my daughter. My own flesh and blood. Why did she frame me like that?
“We’ll get you Italian Tripe Soup, sweetie! Grandma will go buy everything you want,” my mother-in-law cooed, hugging her lovingly.
I took a breath, forced a smile, and said calmly, “Mom, her teacher said she had an upset stomach at school today. Let’s make something light for dinner instead.”
The moment the words left my mouth, my daughter’s mood shifted. She wailed dramatically, “Daddy’s lying! He said I’m a waste of money and don’t deserve good food! He said he’s going to break my legs and cut out my tongue!”
As she spoke, she burst into terrified sobs and buried her face in her Grandma’s arms.
My father-in-law, who had been reading the newspaper nearby, looked up and snapped, “Your dad quit his job to take care of you. Don’t make up such nonsense, you ungrateful little brat!”
Terrified, she clung even tighter to Grandma’s neck. “I’m not lying, Grandma! I don’t wanna be kidnapped! Please, save me!”
Grandma stroked her head gently, her face full of love. “Don’t worry, baby. Grandma’s here. No one’s gonna hurt you.”
She turned to her husband and scolded softly, “She’s just a kid. Don’t take it to heart.”
Then, looking at me, she said, “No Italian Tripe Soup, then. You go buy some groceries instead.”
Just as I was about to agree, I caught the satisfied smile flickering on my daughter’s face.
That's when it hit me. Last time, it was when I left to buy groceries that she made her move. She cried and claimed I used the chance to contact the kidnappers. And sure enough, my phone had some mysterious call logs that no one could explain.
This time, I pulled out my phone and opened the delivery app.
“It’s raining outside, Mom. I’ll just have the groceries delivered.”
I saw the flicker of disappointment in my daughter’s eyes. Her lips pressed into a tight line, and she said nothing.
Seeing that, I smirked inwardly as I thought, 'No Italian Tripe Soup. No going out. Let’s see how she plans to pin it on me now.'
