I finished breakfast as usual.

Just as Argon was about to take our daughter to school, I stopped him, saying, “Althea’s hair is a bit messy. Let me fix it for her.”

With that, I took my daughter to the bathroom.

Closing the door, I lifted her shirt.

Her body was smooth and flawless, free of any bruises.

This was a stark contrast to the scarred body I had seen in my previous life.

So where had the problem truly arisen?

Why would my daughter have both new and old injuries all over her body just a few hours later?

“Darling, are you done? Althea is going to be late!” Argon shouted.

As I pondered, his impatient voice echoed from outside the door.

I opened the door and looked at him, saying, “I’ll take Althea to kindergarten today.”

Argon’s eyes showed a hint of confusion, but he smiled slightly and replied, “Then it’s a bit of hard work for you, dear.”

After saying that, he turned without a word and began tidying up the dining table.

His demeanor and reaction were so normal that it was impossible to detect any issues.

But the more he acted this way, the more urgently I felt the need to uncover the truth.

On the way to drop my daughter off at school, I couldn’t help but ask, “Althea, have you ever been bullied in kindergarten?”

With a sweet smile, my daughter replied, “No, I’m very popular in kindergarten; everyone likes to play with me.”

I paused for a moment before continuing, “What about your teachers? How do they treat you?”

“Our teachers are all very nice! The head teacher often tells me stories and gives me little gifts!”

Her responses were natural and straightforward and her innocent smile radiated happiness.

I pulled the car over to the side and looked at her seriously, asking once more, “So how do you think Mommy treats you?”

With her clear, bright eyes, Althea answered without hesitation, “Mommy is really nice to me!”

After saying this, she leaned in and kissed my cheek.

“Althea loves Mommy the most!”

I hugged my daughter and said nothing more, simply taking her to kindergarten.

The head teacher was waiting at the entrance.

“Mrs. Morgan, how come you have time to drop your child off today?”

The head teacher greeted me with a smile and took my daughter by the hand.

“I’m not too busy at work today,” I replied with a smile while subtly observing her.

I noticed her smile widen as she squatted down, affectionately scratching my daughter’s nose.

“Look at how much your mommy loves you, Althea! She’s working so hard but still came to drop you off at school!”

The head teacher’s demeanor was warm and natural and even the way she looked at my daughter was filled with genuine affection.

It didn’t seem like she was pretending at all.

But the more I observed her, the more confused I became.

In my previous life, I had maintained a good relationship with my daughter's head teacher.

She was kind and treated my daughter well, always smiling and the children in the class liked her.

There were several times I wanted to invite her to dinner to thank her for taking such good care of my daughter, but she always declined, saying it was her duty and responsibility as a teacher and didn’t require any extra gratitude.

In my mind, she was a diligent and fair teacher.

Yet just a few hours later, this upright and easygoing person would publicly accuse me of being a malicious mother who abused her daughter.

I simply couldn’t understand where the problem lay.

There were still three hours until my daughter would jump off the building, but I remained confused.

The thought of my lively daughter suddenly becoming a cold corpse made me break into a sweat.

In my previous life, everything had happened so abruptly that I felt powerless to change it.

In this life, I would never allow that tragedy to repeat itself.

After exchanging pleasantries with my daughter’s homeroom teacher, I left the school.

However, I didn’t go far; I continued to watch from a distance, remaining until the entire kindergarten began closing its doors for the day.

Sitting in my car, I racked my brain but couldn’t make sense of it all.

Why had I done nothing wrong yet become the target of everyone’s scorn?

Why had my daughter, who left home in good spirits, returned just a few hours later covered in old wounds and jumped to her death?

Why had Argon, who had always been so considerate and the honest, kind homeroom teacher both turned against me, accusing me of unfounded crimes?

Questions swirled in my mind, growing increasingly chaotic.

I knew something was off, but I couldn't pinpoint the exact source of the problem.

I could only try to remember the events of my previous life, hoping to find a clue that would unravel my confusion.

After contemplating for a full forty minutes, I suddenly had an epiphany.

I immediately called my secretary and said, “Hurry, help me look into something!”

After giving my instructions, I felt a wave of anxiety wash over me as I waited in my car for his news.

My heart raced as I waited, each passing moment heightening my desperation to uncover the truth.

Ten minutes later, my secretary called, ready to share the results of his investigation.

As I listened to his report, my hand trembled uncontrollably around the phone.

Sure enough, everything was just as I had suspected. I said, “Help me with something. Do it as quickly as possible, no matter the cost!” I added, “And remember, don’t tell anyone.”

After giving my instructions, I drove away from the kindergarten.

Two hours later, the homeroom teacher called.

One frantic call followed another.

When she saw I wasn’t answering, the homeroom teacher began sending text messages.

[Althea's mom, something big has happened! Your daughter jumped off the building at kindergarten. You need to come quickly!]

[Why aren’t you answering your phone? Come to the kindergarten immediately!]

The barrage of urgent messages kept coming.

I simply turned off my phone and resumed watching a movie in the company lounge that I hadn’t finished.

Half an hour later, when the movie ended, I turned my phone back on and found all the major social media platforms flooded with insults directed at me.

Many people were live-streaming and the venue for the stream was none other than my daughter’s kindergarten.

In the footage, my daughter’s homeroom teacher appeared tearful and heartbroken as she lamented, “Althea has always been such a good child. The kids and teachers in kindergarten all love her.”

“I really don’t understand how a child so beloved could have a mother who would beat her like this.”

She continued, “Once, Althea cried to me, saying she would rather die than go home. I thought she was joking, but I never expected she would actually jump off the building! She was only five years old! What kind of suffering could lead her to this?”

“I called her mother a dozen times, but she didn’t answer. She didn’t reply to my texts, as if her daughter’s death had nothing to do with her. How could there be such a cold and heartless mother in this world?”

As the teacher spoke, she played a video from her phone.

In the video, my daughter looked directly at the camera and said, “Teacher Freya, I’ll give you all the candy in my backpack; please don’t make me go home, okay? My mom hits me every day.”

“I’m so scared of her; I don’t want to go home.”

Her eyes were filled with tears, brimming with fear and panic.

Watching this, even the teacher couldn’t help but cover her face and cry.

The viewership in the livestream continued to rise and the comments flooded in, lamenting my daughter’s death while cursing me as an unfit mother.

Argon was also there, holding my daughter’s lifeless body, tears streaming down his face as he spoke to the camera.

“Calista, relying on her family’s wealth, looks down on me, this son-in-law, doing whatever she wants at home. She hits us whenever she feels like it, frequently abusing both me and our daughter, treating us like we’re not even human.”

As he spoke, Argon rolled up his sleeves to reveal the bruises on his arms. “I’ve talked about divorce over this matter, but she threatened that if we divorced, I would never see our daughter again.”

“Unable to bear the thought of losing her, I kept enduring.”

He paused, his voice breaking. “But I never expected that my daughter would be driven to jump off the building by her!”

“I truly regret marrying such a venomous woman!”

Argon, just like in my previous life, passionately detailed my so-called abuses.

His heart-wrenching display of pain and grievance stirred outrage among the audience.

[Oh my god, how can there be such a disgusting woman in this world?] someone cried.

[She doesn’t deserve to be human! Parents capable of raising such a beast can’t be good people themselves. I hope heaven opens its eyes and lets that whole family of beasts perish!]

[I’m so furious I’m shaking! Could some kind-hearted soul please eliminate her for the sake of the people? I can’t even contain my anger on the keyboard!]

The outrage from netizens escalated as if they were all eager to see me dead.

The power of public condemnation was terrifying.

In my previous life, witnessing my daughter’s lifeless body, my husband’s betrayal and the torrent of online abuse had shattered my heart completely.

It left me speechless and led to my wrongful imprisonment and eventual death at the hands of inmates.

My parents, too, had perished as a result of being implicated in the chaos.

But in this life, as the past repeated itself, I felt no emotional upheaval while reading the endless insults and curses.

Instead, I experienced a chilling sense of pleasure in the thought of revenge.

I put my phone away and drove to my daughter’s kindergarten.

As I surveyed the scene of the accident, surrounded by the crowd, a smirk crept across my face.

The show was finally about to begin!