When my wife refused a client’s drink, I smashed a bottle over her head—revenge for my past life. Last time, I drank myself unconscious to save her face. Woke up accused of abusing our daughter Nellie until she jumped off the roof. The suicide note claimed "years of abuse"—a lie. I adored her. But the security footage showed me beating her. Evelyn exposed me as a monster. My mother screamed "You animal!" as my father died of shock. In prison, inmates killed me. Then I woke up—back to Evelyn begging me to drink for her. This time, I’ll make her pay. … “Honey, my stomach is killing me. Can you please take this one for me?” Evelyn’s eyes were wide with a practiced innocence, a performance that was already starting to irritate our client, the overbearing Mr. Cross. “Come on, Ms. Lowell, bringing in a substitute?” he scoffed. “That’s not how you show commitment.” “We’re husband and wife, a team. It’s the same whether he drinks or I do, right, honey?” Those were the exact same words she used last time. And just like last time, Mr. Cross had used her plea as an excuse to pour drink after drink down my throat, insisting a substitute had to drink double. He’d left me completely obliterated. That was how they set the stage for framing me. But I was a good drunk. When I drank too much, I just passed out. I never got violent. And Nellie… she was my only child. I treasured her. The thought of hurting her was impossible. Yet, in my last life, as public outrage reached a fever pitch, Evelyn had tearfully revealed a body covered in bruises, accusing me of being a violent monster who had been secretly torturing her and our daughter for years. She produced the security footage, and that’s what sealed my fate. Remembering the agony of being wrongly condemned, of dying alone and hated, I didn’t hesitate. I snatched a wine bottle from the table and brought it down hard on Evelyn’s head. “You useless thing,” I snarled, my voice dripping with ice. “Mr. Cross is honoring you with his time. Stop playing the victim.” “Ah!” The bottle shattered, the sound echoing in the stunned silence of the room. Red wine and blood streamed down her face. “Whoa, hey, calm down, man! If she doesn’t want to drink, she doesn’t have to. No need to get violent!” I ignored Mr. Cross’s attempts to intervene. Grabbing another bottle, and then another, I relentlessly smashed them against Evelyn, who was now crumpled on the floor, clutching her bleeding head. This time, I’d strike first. Let’s see how she could frame me now. After Evelyn was rushed to the hospital, I walked straight into the nearest police station and turned myself in. With the surveillance footage from the restaurant and a dozen eyewitnesses, including Mr. Cross, they detained me on the spot. Later, my mother came to see me in the holding cell. Her face was etched with worry. “Leo, what happened? You and Evelyn have always been so happy. Why would you attack her like that? Did something happen?” she asked, her voice trembling. “If she did something to wrong you, I’ll support you in a divorce, but you can’t just… beat her, son.” I looked at her, at the silver strands in her hair, and finally asked the question that had haunted me from my last life. “Mom, do you believe me?” “Of course, I do! You’re my only son. I will always believe you!” A wave of relief washed over me. That was the answer I needed. Last time, it was only after seeing the "evidence" and hearing Evelyn's lies that she had disowned me. This time, if I could gather enough proof, my mother would stand by my side. With that thought, I gripped her hand, my voice tight with urgency. “Is Nellie okay?” My mom looked puzzled. “Nellie? She’s at home, fast asleep. Why are you so worried about her all of a sudden?” I pleaded with her, my voice low and serious. “Please, Mom. You have to watch her. Don’t let anything happen to her. And please, don’t tell Dad about this.” She nodded, though her confusion remained. “Silly boy, of course I’ll take good care of Nellie. You don’t have to tell me that.” She sighed. “And your father… his heart can’t take this kind of stress. I told him Nellie missed me and I was coming to stay the night. He doesn’t know a thing.” I felt a profound sense of peace. After a few more instructions, I urged her to hurry back home to be with my daughter. As she left, the image of Nellie’s broken body from my last life flashed in my mind, a pain so sharp it stole my breath. How could a child so cherished, so protected, end up covered in wounds and driven to suicide? Was Evelyn the one who had hurt her, who had coerced her? This time, I would find out the truth. No matter the cost. … At four in the morning, Evelyn showed up at the station to post my bail. I was told she had come straight here the moment she was lucid. “Leo, I was wrong yesterday,” she began, her voice soft and hoarse. Her head and arms were wrapped in gauze, little spots of blood seeping through the white fabric. Her eyes were red-rimmed as if she’d been crying for hours. “I’ve been so focused on work lately, I haven’t made time for you and Nellie. It’s only natural you’d have some resentment to let out. I’ve already canceled that deal. From now on, I’ll spend more time with you and Nellie, okay?” She sounded so sincere, so broken, as if she was the one who had truly made a mistake. If I hadn’t lived through the hell of her betrayal, I might have actually believed her. Last time, she had deliberately covered herself in injuries and claimed I was the monster responsible. If I let her bail me out now, I knew I’d be walking right back into her trap, branded once again as a violent, abusive husband. I cut her off, my voice cold and flat. “No, thank you. What I did was wrong. I broke the law, and I’ll accept the punishment. You don’t need to bail me out.” Seeing her sweet words had no effect, a flicker of rage crossed her face before being quickly suppressed. She tried every angle, but I stood firm, insisting on staying in my cell. Eventually, my mother arrived and persuaded her to go home and rest. Before they left, Mom assured me that Nellie had slept soundly through the night and had already left for school that morning. In my past life, Nellie never went to school that day. That was the morning she jumped from the rooftop. My heart soared. I had done it. I had changed the timeline. My daughter was safe. Exhausted after a sleepless day and night, I finally collapsed onto the thin cot and fell into a deep, dreamless sleep. I was woken at three in the afternoon by a familiar, cheerful voice. “Daddy, I came to see you!” Nellie. My daughter, who had died so tragically in my last life, was standing right in front of me, vibrant and alive. I was so overwhelmed with emotion that I almost burst into tears. “Daddy, why are you crying?” she asked, her little face scrunched in concern. “Mommy said you were protecting her from bad guys, and that’s why the police have to keep you here for a little while.” Her voice swelled with pride. “You’re a hero, Daddy. Heroes don’t cry!” Her words caught me off guard. Behind her, Evelyn gave me a subtle, knowing look. “Leo,” Evelyn said softly, stepping forward. “Nellie has been asking for you all day. She was starting to think you were mad at her since you weren’t there to take her to school.” My mom chimed in, smiling. “See, Nellie? I told you what Grandma and Mommy said was true.” Nellie nodded, her small hands gripping the iron bars of my cell. “Daddy, I made you a little red flower because you’re a big hero!” A lump formed in my throat. I reached through the bars and took her small hand in mine. As I looked at her innocent, lovely face, the horrific image of her bruised and broken body from my last life surged back. So many of those wounds were old scars, the kind that came from years of beatings. On impulse, I yanked up her sleeve. Her arm was smooth, pale, and perfect. There were no crisscrossing whip marks, no old, faded lines. So, what went wrong in my past life? It was impossible for a child to suddenly develop years’ worth of old scars overnight. My mind racing, I turned her around and lifted the back of her shirt. Again, her skin was flawless, not a single mark. My expression must have been terrifying because Nellie shrank back. “Daddy, what’s wrong?” “Nellie,” I asked, my voice strained, “has anyone been bullying you lately?” She hesitated for a second. “No. Why?” “Did… did Mommy hit you? Don’t be afraid, Nellie. We’re in a police station. You can tell the truth. The officers here will protect you.” She shook her head again, more firmly this time. “Mommy loves me. She would never, ever hit me.” Evelyn covered her face with her hands and began to sob. “Leo… how could you? Did you really think I would ever hurt our daughter? If I was that kind of person, why would I have told her you were a hero? I was just trying to protect her from hating you!” My mom sighed, shaking her head in disappointment. “Son, that’s not fair. We’ve all seen what a wonderful mother Evelyn has been all these years. You shouldn’t accuse her like that.” Just then, a guard came by to say that visiting hours were over. Evelyn scooped Nellie into her arms and left, still crying. My mom lingered for a moment, her voice low with frustration. “Leo, you went too far this time. Evelyn is a good wife. You had no right to hurt her like that based on some wild suspicion.” As I watched them walk away, a fog of confusion settled over me. Could it be? Was my last life, with all its horror, really just a terrible nightmare? My hand was damp with sweat, clutching the little red paper flower Nellie had given me. I glanced down at it. And my blood ran cold. My past life wasn’t a dream. It was real. … That night, staring at the blank wall of my cell, I replayed every single detail of my previous life. Ever since I’d woken up in this new reality, I’d been tormented by the same questions. Why would the daughter I adored write a suicide note condemning me? How did I wake up one morning transformed from a loving father into a reviled monster, without having done a thing? And why would Evelyn, the woman who had always seemed to love me, suddenly turn on me, revealing a body full of wounds and branding me a sadist? The questions were a maze with no exit, each one a dead end that left my head pounding. I desperately sifted through my memories, searching for any clue, any detail I might have missed. It wasn't until I truly looked at the little red flower from Nellie that the fog finally began to lift. I knew then that I couldn't just wait for things to happen. I had to take control. At dawn, I had an officer call Evelyn. I told her I had come to my senses and wanted to get out. I apologized, telling her I never should have hit her that night. Through her sobs, Evelyn said she forgave me. She immediately signed the papers, dropping the charges, and I was released. I went back to my old routine, driving Nellie to and from school. The moment she disappeared through the school gates, I made a call to a private investigator. He was fast. In less than half a day, he had answers to all my questions. Staring at the report on my phone, my hands clenched so tightly I thought the screen would shatter. The truth was even more twisted than I could have imagined. There was a secret buried so deep I never would have found it on my own. “I have another job for you,” I said into the phone, my voice low and grim. “I need it done fast. And no one can know.” Two days later, it was Nellie’s birthday. Evelyn, true to her word, had cancelled all her work and thrown a lavish party in our backyard. Despite the summer heat, she wore a wide-brimmed hat and a long-sleeved dress, graciously accepting praise from our guests. Nellie, dressed like a little princess, beamed as she thanked everyone for her gifts. Finally, she took my hand, her smile radiant. “Thank you, Daddy, for always spoiling me. But I have a gift for you, too.” She started pulling me towards the house, towards the stairs. She playfully shooed everyone else away, planting her hands on her hips and declaring, “This is a special secret, just for my daddy!” The guests chuckled at her adorable antics. I smiled, a strange calm settling over me, and let her lead me up to the rooftop. “Okay, Daddy, close your eyes and count to ten. No peeking!” She tied a black blindfold over my eyes, and I heard her small voice begin the countdown. “…three, two, one.” As she said the last word, a sickening thud echoed from the yard below. I tore off the blindfold. The space on the rooftop where my daughter had just been standing was empty. Screams erupted from the party below. I rushed downstairs. There, on the manicured lawn, lay my daughter, facedown, broken. Her death was just as gruesome as it had been in my last life. And on the rooftop, once again, was a suicide note. The words were the same. A heart-wrenching letter from a daughter who called her father a monster. She couldn’t take the constant beatings, she wrote. She was terrified of being alone with me. She didn’t want to live anymore. Evelyn threw herself onto the bloody, mangled body, her wails tearing through the air, a perfect echo of the last time. “Leo! I thought… I thought you only hurt me! I thought you still loved our daughter! I never imagined you were this much of a monster!” With a dramatic flourish, she ripped off her hat and tore the sleeves from her dress, revealing a head and arms covered in ugly, healing wounds. “You were all asking why I was so covered up! It’s because of this! Because of the injuries he gave me!” A collective gasp went through the crowd. Sobbing, Evelyn launched into her story, painting me as a depraved sadist who had tormented her for years. When she told them how I’d smashed bottles over her head in front of Mr. Cross, putting her in the hospital, the mood turned venomous. Mr. Cross himself stepped out of the crowd, his face a mask of fury. He slammed his glass down. “Ms. Lowell begged us to keep quiet to protect you, but I see now we were protecting a demon!” he roared. “We all saw it! He beat her until she was bleeding on the floor!” “And he didn’t just beat his wife,” someone else shouted. “He beat his daughter, too!” The accusations flew, a storm of hatred directed at me. Evelyn’s grief reached a crescendo. “Nellie, my baby! It’s my fault! My silence is what killed you!” My mother rushed forward and grabbed my arm, her own voice shaking. “Leo, I don’t believe it! You were always such a kind boy! Tell them you didn’t do these things! Tell them!” I stared back at her, my face a blank mask. I pulled my arm from her grasp. “I did it,” I said, my voice calm and clear. The world exploded. Someone called the police. Someone else pulled out their phone and started a live stream. “Breaking news! Leo Lowell, heir to the Lowell Corporation, has just confessed to years of abuse against his wife and daughter! His daughter jumped to her death moments ago after leaving a suicide note!” The comments on the live stream flooded in. [HOLY SHIT. I thought he was just some useless husband riding his wife’s coattails. Turns out he’s a murderous psychopath!] [His wife is a saint! She built up his company, gave him a child, and this is how he repays her? He deserves to rot!] [I bet she didn’t jump. I bet he pushed her! They need to investigate!] [Agree! He was alone with her on the roof, right? He totally pushed her!] My mother screamed at them, threatening to sue them for slander. But Evelyn, slowly rising from her daughter’s body, cut through the noise. “Our rooftop has security cameras,” she announced, her voice trembling but firm. “And… and I put a camera on Nellie.” She paused, taking a shaky breath. “Three years ago, I started noticing that every time I came back from a business trip, Nellie would have new bruises. When I asked her, she’d just say she fell while riding her horse. I was terrified he was doing to her what he did to me. So I finally found the courage to confront him.” Her voice cracked. “While he was asleep, I held a knife to his throat. I told him, ‘If you need to hit someone, hit me. But if you ever touch our daughter again, I will kill you in your sleep.’ He was scared. He promised he’d never hurt her again. I actually believed him.” Tears streamed down her face. “But I was a fool. He just found other ways to hurt her… ways I couldn’t see.” She turned to the large projection screen set up for the party and connected her phone. The video that filled the screen was horrifying. It showed me, in my car, my face contorted in a vicious snarl as I jabbed a thin needle into Nellie’s arm again and again. My daughter’s small voice, choked with tears, pleaded, “Daddy, it hurts so much… please, please stop…” “That bastard!” someone in the crowd yelled, hurling a rock that struck my forehead, drawing blood. Evelyn changed the video. Now it was the rooftop security footage. It showed Nellie blindfolding me. She counted down to one. Then, her eyes filled with tears, she looked towards the camera and spoke, her voice clear and chilling. “Daddy, my gift to you is my life… in exchange for your arrest.” With that, she dropped the suicide note and, without a backward glance, stepped off the edge. That was the final blow for my mother. She could no longer defend me. “You monster!” she shrieked, throwing her own phone at my face. It hit my nose with a sickening crunch, and warmth flooded down my lips. “I wish I’d never given birth to you!” She scrambled over to Nellie’s body, cradling it in her arms. “Nellie, my sweet granddaughter… Grandma’s monster is the one who did this to you!” Evelyn’s voice rose in a final, gut-wrenching scream of accusation. “When you were in that cell, you apologized! I thought you were sorry! I was stupid enough to feel pity and bail you out! And you used that freedom to drive my daughter to her death! If you had a problem, you should have taken it out on me! WHY DID YOU HAVE TO KILL MY DAUGHTER?” Amidst the chaos, a cruel smile spread across my face. “She jumped herself. How is that my fault?” That single sentence ignited the crowd. “You inhuman beast! You don’t deserve to be a father! You deserve the death penalty!” A hail of bottles and stones rained down on me. People spat at me. I was bruised, bleeding, but I just laughed louder. Because the only way for the truth to be seen was to make the spectacle as big as possible. “Everyone, stop! The person who killed Nellie Lowell is not him!” The voice cut through the roar of the mob. I knew that voice. The person I was waiting for had finally arrived. The show was about to begin.
? Continue the story here ?? ? Download the "MotoNovel" app ? search for "393735", and watch the full series ✨! #MotoNovel