My Daughter, the Liar Chapter 1

When she was little, she accidentally bumped her arm and told her grandmother that I had pinched her, causing her grandmother to throw a massive fit at me.

When she got older, she constantly skipped class, telling her homeroom teacher that our home environment was too suffocating and that she had depression.

Later, she started dating a local thug.

I followed her to the rooftop where they were secretly meeting. During an argument with him, she was pushed off the building.

I died on the spot trying to save her. But my daughter’s very first reaction was to pull out her phone, record my broken body, and scream for the camera: "Mom, why did you jump?!"

When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to her senior year of high school, exactly when she was threatening suicide to elope with that thug.

This time, I efficiently packed her bags and set them in front of her: "Go ahead, honey. Mom fully supports your freedom to love."

* * *

"If you don't agree to let us be together, I swear I'll slit my own throat right here and make you clean up my corpse!"

The moment I opened my eyes, I saw my daughter holding a kitchen knife to her neck, screaming at me like a maniac.

But I knew she had absolutely no intention of killing herself. She was just doing this to force my hand, to make me yield to her increasingly outrageous demands.

In my past life, this terrified me so much that my soul practically left my body. I was a hair's breadth away from dropping to my knees and begging her not to do something stupid.

In the end, with tears in my eyes, I agreed to their relationship. To keep her from running away, I even promised to give her a $3,000 monthly allowance.

My husband and I only made about $5,000 a month combined. To scrape together that $3,000, I practically lived at the office. I worked overtime every single night until I was so exhausted my vision blurred.

And she took our blood, sweat, and tears to fund that thug's lifestyle, bragging smugly to him:

"That old bitch definitely has money hoarded away. I just have to keep pushing her, and she'll spit it all out."

Thinking of all this, I clenched my fists tightly, turned around, and walked out of the room.

"You old bitch! Even if you call Dad, it won't change anything!"

Thinking she had won again, my daughter slammed the knife down on the table with a loud CLANG. After smashing a few teacups to vent her remaining anger, she followed me into my bedroom.

"Even if you drop to your knees and beg me, I won't—"

The rest of her sentence died in her throat as she stepped fully into the room.

The next second, her voice shot up an entire octave: "What the hell are you doing?"

Meeting her shocked stare, I zipped up her suitcase with practiced efficiency and rolled it over to her.

"Go ahead, honey. Mom fully supports your freedom to love."

Of course you two should be together.

After all, your "good days" won't truly begin until after you get pregnant.