A small sigh of relief escaped me.
Not this time. I wasn’t going to let her set me up again.
Right then, she dropped her bowl and loudly declared, “I want Italian Tripe Soup!”
Internally, I scoffed. But I kept my tone calm and concerned.
“Sweetie, your teacher said you had an upset stomach today. Let’s not eat Italian Tripe Soup tonight, okay?”
She puffed up her cheeks in rage and shrieked, “Daddy’s lying! He’s doing this on purpose! He's abusing and trying to kill me! Mommy, call the police! Tell them to arrest him!”
She cried dramatically, and all eyes turned to me. But this time, I wasn’t backing down.
“Fine,” I said coldly. “Let’s call the police. Let’s see who’s really lying here.”
At my words, my daughter froze, a flicker of panic in her eyes.
She clearly hadn’t expected me to push back like this.
Just when I thought I had finally gotten the upper hand, she snatched a fork from the table and, in one swift motion, slashed it down her own face.
Gasps echoed around the table.
Blood streamed down from the scratches she left on her cheeks.
Through sobs, she cried out again, her voice trembling with fear, “Daddy… my face… I can’t stream for those nice uncles anymore… please stop hitting me. I’ll be good, I promise…”
She was doing it again, framing me.
Naomi stood up so fast that her chair nearly toppled over. Without hesitation, she slapped me across the face.
“What the hell is going on?!” she shouted. “You pushed her this far?!”
My in-laws were stunned and heartbroken, but they still tried to calm Naomi down.
Through broken sobs, our daughter explained her “side of the story.”
Naomi grabbed my phone to find proof—whatever “evidence” our daughter was talking about.
I wasn’t worried. I had already checked my phone earlier. There was nothing there.
But as she scrolled through my photo gallery, her expression grew darker and darker.
Her breathing turned ragged. She looked like she was about to explode.
My in-laws rushed over to see what was going on.
“Garth!” my father-in-law shouted, shaking with fury. “How could you do this to my granddaughter?! After everything our family’s done for you, this is how you repay us?!”
He shoved the table over in rage.
My mother-in-law, crying now, yelled through tears, “No wonder Zelene said those things earlier! So you have been abusing her all along!”
I shouted back that I didn’t do it—that I had no idea what they were talking about!