The moment the words left my mouth, my daughter’s mood shifted. She wailed dramatically, “Daddy’s lying! He said I’m a waste of money and don’t deserve good food! He said he’s going to break my legs and cut out my tongue!”
As she spoke, she burst into terrified sobs and buried her face in her Grandma’s arms.
My father-in-law, who had been reading the newspaper nearby, looked up and snapped, “Your dad quit his job to take care of you. Don’t make up such nonsense, you ungrateful little brat!”
Terrified, she clung even tighter to Grandma’s neck. “I’m not lying, Grandma! I don’t wanna be kidnapped! Please, save me!”
Grandma stroked her head gently, her face full of love. “Don’t worry, baby. Grandma’s here. No one’s gonna hurt you.”
She turned to her husband and scolded softly, “She’s just a kid. Don’t take it to heart.”
Then, looking at me, she said, “No Italian Tripe Soup, then. You go buy some groceries instead.”
Just as I was about to agree, I caught the satisfied smile flickering on my daughter’s face.
That's when it hit me. Last time, it was when I left to buy groceries that she made her move. She cried and claimed I used the chance to contact the kidnappers. And sure enough, my phone had some mysterious call logs that no one could explain.
This time, I pulled out my phone and opened the delivery app.
“It’s raining outside, Mom. I’ll just have the groceries delivered.”
I saw the flicker of disappointment in my daughter’s eyes. Her lips pressed into a tight line, and she said nothing.
Seeing that, I smirked inwardly as I thought, 'No Italian Tripe Soup. No going out. Let’s see how she plans to pin it on me now.'
Garth's POV
That evening, Naomi returned home from her competition out of town. So, the whole family gathered around the dinner table, chatting and laughing over a homemade meal.
Naomi complimented my cooking, and even my in-laws couldn’t stop singing my praises.
But I wasn’t smiling.
While everyone was relaxed and enjoying themselves, I noticed something off—my daughter kept glancing around, her eyes darting as if she was plotting something.
I checked the time on my phone. We were exactly two minutes away from the moment she had shoved her hand into the boiling Italian Tripe Soup in my previous life and falsely accused me.
As such, I quickly opened my photo gallery, scanning through it carefully. But no strange pictures. Nothing out of place.