They Framed My Daughter,This Time I Fight Back

The day of Jane Abbott's 60th birthday dinner, her daughter Lucille Abbott burst into tears and announced that her gold bracelet was missing.

I spent the entire afternoon helping her tear the house apart looking for it.

Then, out of nowhere, she pulled the bracelet from my daughter's backpack and pointed at me, screaming that I'd taught my child to steal.

Rose Austin was only five. She was so terrified she couldn't stop crying.

My husband Keith Abbott, afraid his mother would make herself sick with rage, told me to apologize first. Keep the family's dirty laundry behind closed doors, he said.

I swallowed my humiliation and paid Lucille $5,000.

The next day, Lucille posted the video of Rose sobbing to the family group chat on WhatsApp.

She told everyone I was so desperate to get my hands on Jane's inheritance that I'd corrupted my own child.

Relatives showed up at our door to hurl insults.

Rose's kindergarten asked us to withdraw her. Keith got reassigned to janitorial duty at his office.

Jane forced me to sign an asset-stripping agreement, forfeiting everything.

Lucille moved into the house I'd bought before the marriage and demanded I pay her $5,000 a month for emotional damages.

Rose, branded a thief by everyone around her, ran into traffic on her way home from school.

Keith couldn't take it. He jumped from the roof of our building.

And Lucille, holding the deed to my home, smiled and said at least Rose's death meant one less burden.

I hated her down to the marrow of my bones. I grabbed her and dragged us both into the river.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at Jane's birthday dinner, at the exact moment Lucille started crying about the missing bracelet.

——

“Nellie Fox, my gold bracelet is gone. Please, you have to help me find it.”

Lucille was crying, a ring light with bunny ears clutched in her hand.

Jane immediately pressed a palm to her chest.

“Lucille, that's what your father left you before he passed.”

Lucille turned her reddened eyes to me.

“You and Rose were the only ones who went into my room earlier. I'm not saying it was you, I'm just scared.”

Rose stood beside me, holding a slice of cake.

“Mommy, why is Auntie crying?”

I crouched down and pulled her behind me.

“Rose, did you touch anything in Auntie's cabinet?”

Rose shook her head.

“No. I only took a crayon, but Auntie said if I messed up a drawing I'd have to pay, so I put it back.”

Keith frowned.

“Let's just find the bracelet first.”

I looked at him.

“Fine. But who's searching, and how, needs to be clear before anyone touches anything.”

Jane's expression hardened.

“We're family looking for a piece of jewelry. You need to set ground rules for that? Nellie, don't you dare ruin my birthday dinner.”

Lucille jumped in immediately.

“Mom, don't blame her. She's probably just worried people will get the wrong idea about her.”

She set the ring light on the table, its camera aimed right at me.

In my last life, it had gone exactly the same way.

She cried about the bracelet, I searched all afternoon, and then I watched her pull it from Rose's backpack.

Rose was called a thief to her face, expelled from kindergarten, and eventually ran into traffic.

Keith jumped from the roof.

And Lucille held the deed to my home, smiled, and said at least Rose's death meant one less burden.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at this moment.

I didn't move.

“Call the police.”

The room went dead silent.

Lucille's eyelid twitched.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Jewelry is missing. Calling the police is the safest way to handle it.”

Jane slammed her hand on the table.

“It's my birthday! You want to bring the cops into my house? Haven't you embarrassed me enough?”

Keith lowered his voice.

“Nellie, cut it out.”

“I'm not the one who lost anything, and I'm not the one making a scene.”

Tears rolled down Lucille's cheeks.

“Do you think I'm trying to shake you down? I'm a divorced woman living back with her mother. Isn't that pathetic enough? Now you want to call the police and humiliate me on top of it?”

This was her specialty.

Cast herself as the victim, and anyone who didn't play along became the villain.

I pulled out my phone and hit record.

“If we're searching, we film every second of it. Everyone puts their phone on the table. Whoever touches anything, it's on camera.”