Theater: NovelMaster | Language: English | NEW
Synopsis
Tags: Smart FL, Toxic Family, Pathological Liar, Rebirth Revenge, Trap
My mother was a pathological liar who loved playing the victim while making me her scapegoat.
When I was little, she lost track of time playing underground poker and forgot to make dinner.
In front of the entire family, she slapped me hard across the face.
"This little brat vanished out of nowhere! I spent hours searching the streets for her—that's why dinner isn't ready!"
Because of that lie, I was forced to kneel outside in the freezing yard all night.
In middle school, during the most critical state exam, the teacher repeatedly instructed parents to prepare our test packets.
Mom didn't pack mine at all. Afterward, she cried in front of all my classmates,
"I packed everything in her bag! She just chickened out and threw it away on the way to school!"
For the rest of my school years, I was completely ostracized.
When I grew up, she would come into my room late at night and sob,
"Mark has abused me for years. The only reason I haven't walked away is because of you."
Out of sympathy, I begged her to divorce him. The next morning, she twisted every word and ran to my dad.
"Your daughter is trying to break us up! She said she doesn't need a pathetic loser for a father! I couldn't bear to keep it from you!"
Dad flew into a blind rage. In the chaos, he shoved me off the balcony. I died on impact.
When I opened my eyes again, I was right back to the night she first came into my room to cry about Dad...
"Vivian, your father is an absolute monster..."
"If it weren't for you, I would have walked out on him years ago."
Her voice was painfully familiar.
My eyes snapped open. Mom was sitting on the edge of my bed, tears streaming down her face.
Hearing the exact same line from my past life, I finally realized: I had been reborn.
"My life has been nothing but pure agony..."
She took my hand. A warm tear fell onto my skin.
Just like before, her performance was flawless.
This time, I didn't rush to comfort her. I just quietly wiped the tear from the back of my hand.
"Mom,"
I said softly, "Dad... can really be out of line sometimes."
Thinking she had hooked me, she cried even harder.
"He doesn't care about this family! He hoards every dime for himself and leaves us to suffer!"
"Last week, I just wanted to buy a new coat, and he cursed me out like a dog!"
I listened quietly, mocking her in my head.
Last week?
Last week, Dad bought her an expensive gold necklace. She showed it off to her poker buddies, claiming she bought it with her own secret stash of cash.
"And yesterday!"
She sniffled loudly. "I just wanted a decent dinner, and he slammed his fork down, screaming that I was wasting his money!"
Dad had been out of town on business yesterday. He didn't even get home until two in the morning.
I raised my hand and gently patted her back.
"Mom, don't make yourself sick over this."
She grabbed my hand like a lifeline.
"Vivian, you understand me! You're the only one who truly gets me!"
Her tears came on command. Her acting was pure perfection.
"I can't live like this for another second! If it weren't for you, I would have..."
She stopped abruptly, her eyes secretly scanning my face to measure my reaction.
In my last life, this was the exact moment I took the bait and said:
"If it weren't for me, you would have divorced him long ago, right?"
"I'm so sorry you had to suffer all these years for me, Mom..."
I thought it was a tender moment between mother and daughter. Instead, she weaponized it, painting me as the ungrateful daughter trying to tear the family apart.
In this life, I would never repeat that mistake.
"Mom,"
I cut her off, keeping my voice gentle.
"This is between you and Dad. You're both adults. Whatever you choose to do, that's entirely up to you."
Mom froze. Her sobs hitched in her throat.
A flash of confusion crossed her face. She clearly hadn't expected this answer.
In my past life, I would have been bursting with indignation, swearing to stand by her side.
"Vivian, what... what are you saying? Isn't everything I do for you?"
"For me?" I looked at her with calm eyes. "Mom, I'm grown now. Your happiness shouldn't be chained to my existence."
Her gaze began to shift nervously.
She let go of my hand and messily wiped her dry tears.
"Are you... are you annoyed with me? Do you think I'm nagging?"
"No." I shook my head. "I just think this is a marital issue. As your daughter, it's not my place to interfere."
Look at her.
She never wanted a divorce.
She just needed the martyr complex—the noble excuse of "enduring abuse for the sake of the child"—to gain sympathy and justify all her demands.
I sneered inwardly and whispered:
"Mom, I'm exhausted."
She paused, studying my face, trying to see if I was telling the truth.
Her mouth parted as if she wanted to push further.
I didn't give her the chance. I turned around and pulled the covers over my shoulders.
"You should get some sleep too, Mom."
The room fell silent for a few seconds.
Finally, I heard her stand up and walk toward the door.
"Fine. Get some rest."
Late into the night, after all footsteps had faded, I started to relax, assuming she hadn't suspected anything.
The very next second, a muffled voice from the crack beneath the door sent chills down my spine.
Mom was whispering into her phone in the kitchen, her tone laced with suppressed excitement.
"Don't worry, she didn't suspect a thing... Wait for my next update."The next morning, Mom acted as if nothing had happened and came to wake me up.
"Vivian, sweetie, come eat breakfast. I fried an egg for you."
Her smile was far too warm. A chill ran down my spine. Something was terribly wrong.
Dad was sitting at the table reading the paper, not even looking up.
"Mark, drink some more milk." Mom slid a glass toward him, her voice dripping with artificial sweetness.
This unnatural harmony was far more alarming than her midnight crying.
What was going on?
Had she figured something out?
After breakfast, Mom hooked her arm affectionately through mine.
"Vivian, come to the bank with me, will you? My debit card has been acting up. You're young and good with these things, help me figure it out."
My heart skipped a beat.
This never happened in my past life.
Why was she suddenly dragging me to the bank?
To avoid raising suspicion, I forced a smile and nodded.
"Sure."
At the bank counter, Mom fumbled around.
"Oh dear, how could I forget my PIN again..."
The teller looked noticeably annoyed.
Mom suddenly turned to me. "Vivian, did you bring your ID? Let's just open a temporary account under your name for now. I'll transfer the funds out as soon as I get home."
The desperation in her eyes wasn't about a forgotten PIN. It was the look of a predator waiting for the prey to take the bait.
Suddenly, a memory from my past life hit me. Around this time, she had asked for my ID and Social Security number under the guise of "setting up a savings fund."
A month later, a massive, suspicious loan appeared under my name.
"I didn't bring it," I said apologetically. "Mom, why don't you go home and grab Dad's ID instead?"
Her face darkened instantly before stretching into an eerie, strained smile.
"You careless girl, always forgetting things..."
She stayed dead silent the entire walk back.
Just as we reached the front steps of our apartment complex, she stopped dead in her tracks.
"Vivian, is that Mrs. Jenkins over there?"
I looked toward where she was pointing. The entrance was completely empty.
"Where? I don't see anyone."
The moment I turned back, my heart slammed against my ribs. Her hand was hastily pulling away from the pocket of my jacket.
She had slipped something into my pocket.
"Must have seen wrong," she muttered casually and walked inside.
Forcing myself to stay calm, I slid my hand into my pocket. My fingertips brushed against a hard, tiny plastic square.
Not money.
I pretended to tie my shoelace, pulled it out, and took a quick peek.
It was an unregistered SIM card.
My heart stopped.
What did she want to do with my identity and a burner SIM card?
Was my death in the previous life connected to this?
Looking back, the balcony railing had snapped far too conveniently when Dad pushed me.
Something smelled foul.
That night, while showering, I dropped the SIM card into the drain and flushed it away.
When I stepped out of the bathroom, Mom was standing right by the door holding a warm glass of milk, smiling serenely.
"Here, Vivian. Warm milk helps you sleep."
I stared at the white liquid.
She had always been this "caring" in my previous life.
"Thanks, Mom." I took the glass.
The moment I closed my bedroom door, I dumped the milk into the potted plant by the window.
Late into the night, a faint sound woke me up.
Through the crack beneath the door, a shadow blocked the hallway light.
Someone was standing right outside my room.
Holding my breath, I heard Mom's low, amused whisper into the phone:
"Everything is set... This time, nothing will go wrong."
"After all, she already failed the test once before, didn't she?"The blood in my veins turned to ice.
A test? What did that mean?
The footsteps walked away, but I stayed awake until dawn.
The next morning, Mom was bustling in the kitchen again.
"Vivian, I made your favorite warm oatmeal."
She scooped a spoonful, blew on it, and held it to my lips.
"Come on, eat it while it's hot."
I stared at her, unmoving.
Her eyes rimmed with red. "I know something has been bothering you lately, but you can't just skip meals. How can your body handle that?"
I took the bowl. "I'll feed myself."
I scooped some up, pretended to take a bite, and flicked my wrist. The hot oatmeal splashed all over my shirt.
"Oh!"
Mom shrieked and jumped up.
A split-second flash of disappointment crossed her eyes.
It wasn't concern. It was... the bitter frustration of a ruined plan.
She instantly switched back to the doting mother. "Did you burn yourself? Oh, you clumsy child, be careful!"
She rushed over, frantic to wipe my shirt, but her fingernails dug painfully into my arm.
Half an hour later, a violent cramp tore through my stomach.
I bolted to the bathroom and threw up violently.
Mom stood by the doorway, her voice completely calm—almost expecting this.
"See? That's what happens when you skip meals. Your stomach can't take it."
My vision blurred as cold sweat soaked my clothes.
Hearing the commotion, Dad walked out.
"What's going on?"
Mom launched into her routine immediately, pointing at me with heartbreak written all over her face.
"Your daughter is being picky! Refusing to eat this, refusing to eat that! Complaining that my cooking is disgusting! Now she's made herself sick!"
A second later, she stroked my hair with sickening gentleness.
"Forget it, I shouldn't hold it against a child."
"Hurry, Mark, get the car! We need to take her to the emergency room!"
In the ER, the doctor took one look at my vitals and frowned.
"Food poisoning. Prep her for a stomach pump."
The nurse brought over a consent form. "She needs to be on strict NPO—no food or water before the procedure."
I nodded weakly.
Mom suddenly grabbed the nurse's arm. "No! She hasn't eaten anything! How can she survive on an empty stomach?!"
"Ma'am, this is hospital policy..."
"To hell with policy! My daughter is collapsing!" She spun around, holding a cup of porridge she had somehow gotten from outside. "Vivian, listen to Mom. Just one sip. Just one!"
She shoved the spoon forcefully against my lips.
I clamped my mouth shut and turned my head away.
"Mom... the doctor said... I can't eat..."
"What do doctors know?! I'm doing this for your own good!" Her voice cracked into tears. "Do you want to starve to death?!"
She forcefully grabbed my shoulders.
I clamped my jaw shut. The hot porridge smeared across my cheek, burning my skin.
"The patient cannot consume anything!" The nurse tried to pull her back.
Mom shoved her away violently. "She's my daughter! I make the decisions!"
Chaos erupted in the room.
The attending doctor rushed over, his face grim.
"What is going on here?!"
Mom let go of me instantly.
She stumbled back, tears instantly flooding her cheeks as she pointed at me and wailed to the doctor:
"Doctor, please talk some sense into her! She was crying that she was starving and begged me for food! I... I didn't know what else to do..."
Lying in the hospital bed, watching her grand performance, my whole body turned numb.
The doctor frowned. "She explicitly refused food just now."
Mom's crying cut off abruptly.
Her eyes widened in disbelief, looking from the doctor to me as if she had suffered the ultimate betrayal.
"Vivian... how could you lie like that? You were the one begging me to buy you food!"
She turned to the other patients in the room, seeking validation.
"This girl is so stubborn... even when she's sick, she has to torment everyone around her..."
The doctor didn't have time for her melodrama. He wheeled my bed straight into the procedure room and turned on the pump.
As the tube was shoved down my throat, I locked eyes with Mom through the glass door.
She stood under the hallway lights. The corner of her mouth... subtly curved upward.The moment the procedure ended and the doctor stepped out, Mom threw herself against my bedside.
"Vivian, I know it hurts."
Her tears fell fast and genuine.
"It's all my fault. I didn't take good care of you..."
Dad stood nearby, his face dark as thunder.
Mom suddenly turned to him, her voice trembling. "Mark... while she was half-conscious, she kept deliriously mumbling things..."
My heart tightened. What sick game was she playing now?
Mom clutched my hand tightly, her tone dripping with sheer grievance.
"She said... she said she can't stand living in this house anymore. She begged me... begged me to divorce you!"
Dad's eyes snapped toward me.
"She said you're a pathetic loser! She said she'd rather have no father at all!"
"You're lying!"
I struggled to sit up, but my throat burned like fire.
Mom pinned me down, sobbing hysterically.
"Mark! Look at her! Would I make up lies at a time like this?! She said it with her own mouth!"
Dad's chest heaved violently, his eyes bloodshot.
"You ungrateful little bastard!" He shoved Mom aside and lunged at me.
"Dad! She's lying!"
Mom wrapped her arms around Dad's waist from behind, screaming at me: "Vivian, run! Your father is going to kill you!"
It looked like she was holding him back, but she was cleverly using her weight to push him closer to me.
Completely enraged by her performance, Dad snatched a glass tumbler from the bedside table and hurled it at me.
I rolled off the bed just in time. Glass shattered everywhere.
"You think you can disrespect me?!" Dad broke free from Mom and charged like an enraged beast.
I bolted out of the room and sprinted for the stairs.
"Stop her! Don't let her do something stupid!" Mom screamed behind us, but a sinister excitement leaked through her voice.
Dad's heavy footsteps chased close behind.
Weak from having my stomach pumped, I couldn't make it far before Dad caught me by the collar.
He threw me into the car and drove us home. No matter how much I begged on the ride, he only spat one cold sentence:
"Wait until we get home. I'll deal with you then."
The front door banged open.
He slammed me onto the floor.
"I'm going to beat the defiance out of you today!"
He grabbed my hair and dragged me toward the balcony.
"You want to destroy your mother?! You die first!"
Mom rushed over, grabbing Dad's arm and wailing, "Mark! No! That's your daughter!"
Yet her body subtly blocked every route for me to crawl back into the living room.
Dad shoved me hard against the balcony.
My spine slammed into the metal railing. It gave a faint, loose groan.
Dad closed in, his knuckles popping.
"Dad! Look at Mom! Look at what she's doing!" I rasped.
Blinded by rage, Dad couldn't hear a word.
Mom crouched just behind Dad's flank. Her hands rested limply on the railing as if she were begging on her knees.
"Mark, please, don't do this to our child..."
Hidden from Dad's line of sight, her right palm was pressed flat against the base of the railing.
Silently, expertly... she was turning the already loose bolt, round and round.
Practiced. Soundless.
In my previous life, at this exact moment, that same bolt had been unscrewed the exact same way.
Why was she so desperate to kill me?
Was I doomed to die the exact same way in this life too?
No. I refused to accept that.
I glared at Mom's face, watching her Oscar-worthy performance, and a sudden realization struck me like lightning.
So that was it.
I finally understood.
The real reason she needed me dead!
Chapters (4)
Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Watch & Promotions
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