Chapter 1

My Daughter Saw Me as Her Enemy

I enrolled my daughter in piano lessons, but she claimed I wanted to parade her on stage for others’ amusement.

When she wanted to meet a man she’d met online, I firmly opposed it. She accused me of restricting her freedom.

She won a gold medal in a piano competition and seemed destined for greatness, yet during a public interview, she said I treated her as nothing more than a money-making tool.

Later, when I suffered a heart attack, she flushed my medication down the drain, sneering that I should have died long ago.

Now, I’ve been reborn.

This time, I sold her expensive piano and stopped paying for her lessons.

I watched as she fell from grace, indifferent to her struggles.

And then, she regretted it.

…

When I opened my eyes, I saw a message from her piano teacher.

“Mrs. Johnson, it’s time to pay the next semester’s tuition—$4,800 as usual.

By the way, has Salina been distracted lately? She’s been secretly playing on her phone in class and hasn’t been practicing seriously. She hasn’t completed her assignments for two weeks in a row.

At this rate, she won’t even qualify for the national piano competition, let alone win a prize.

If you have time, please talk to her. Her future is what matters most.”

Staring at the familiar words on the screen, I felt my breathing grow uneven.

In my previous life, I’d received the exact same message.

Back then, I confronted my daughter, only to discover that she’d recently started dating a man ten years her senior in an online game and was planning to meet him in person.

She was still a minor, and I knew online relationships often led to deception. I refused to let her throw herself into the fire.

What followed was an explosive argument. She screamed that if I didn’t let her date, she’d end her life. In a fit of rage, she even smashed her new piano—a $10,000 gift for her sixteenth birthday.

Despite her threats, I stood my ground.

I paid for costly repairs to the piano, made her delete the game, and continued to fund her lessons, supervising her practice every day.

In the end, her hard work paid off. Six months later, she won a gold medal in a prestigious piano competition. The judges praised her, and she was offered early admission to a top arts academy. Her future seemed limitless.

Watching her crowned with glory, I felt an immense sense of pride.

But during a post-competition interview, she wept as she exposed my so-called crimes.

She declared that I was the person she hated most in the world.

She claimed I forced her to learn piano to turn her into a public spectacle.

She accused me of driving away her father and grandmother, barring her from seeing the people she loved most.

She cried that I had denied her the chance to pursue true love, using coercion to break up her relationship.

She said I was so poor that I pinned all my hopes on her, treating her as nothing more than a tool to make money.

Her hoarse voice moved the reporters to tears.

When I saw the interview on TV, I was so furious my heart gave out.

She was right there beside me, watching as I struggled to breathe. Calmly, she poured my medication down the drain, her face twisted with malice and satisfaction.

“You don’t need this medicine. You should’ve died a long time ago.”

Those were the last words I heard before my death.

I watched my own soul rise above my lifeless body. I saw her crying as she called for help, saw the ambulance arrive to take my corpse away.

In front of the media, she wailed inconsolably, winning widespread sympathy.

The prestigious arts academy she’d been accepted to promised to waive her tuition entirely and even awarded her an annual scholarship of $20,000.

A renowned pianist announced plans to adopt her as a goddaughter and sponsor her studies abroad.

Before long, she reunited with her estranged biological father. She posted photos of their happy moments online, earning the blessing of countless strangers.

And me?

Online, people said my death was well-deserved. Karma, they called it.

My ashes were buried in a desolate cemetery on the outskirts of town. Tourists who knew my story would spit on my grave as part of their sightseeing.

When my husband cheated and we divorced, I had fought tooth and nail for custody of my daughter, unwilling to leave her in the hands of his mistress’s family.

To pay for her piano lessons, I worked during the day and took on two extra jobs at night.

I spared no expense to hire the best teachers, fearful her talent would go to waste.

Years of sweat and sacrifice had elevated her to dazzling heights, and yet, she turned around and ground me into the dirt.

So much for mother-daughter love.

I typed a reply to the piano teacher.

“I’m sorry, but I won’t be paying for Salina’s lessons this semester.

If she wants to continue, her father can cover the cost.”

Since she’d never appreciated my sacrifices and had only ever seen me as her enemy, I decided to let it go.

This time, I would give her freedom.