After being reborn, I distanced myself from that ungrateful mother and daughter.
Chapter 1
My wife couldn’t have kids, so we adopted a
daughter from the foster system. Little did I
know, it would turn into a living nightmare.
On her 18th birthday, she burst out of my
room, screaming that I’d assaulted her.
My wife backed her up, corroborating the
whole story.
I was speechless, utterly defenseless. I ended
up paying her a huge settlement, my wife
divorced me, and I lost everything.
<
My job as a professor was suspended, I was
publicly shamed, a pariah in my own.
community.
Eventually, crippled by depression, I jumped
from a high–rise.
It was only after my death that the horrifying
truth was revealed.
Then, I opened my eyes, and I was back on
the day of her 18th birthday.
“Dad, it’s my 18th birthday! What did you get
me?” Ashley whined, tugging at my arm. It hit
me like a ton of bricks: I was reborn.
I looked down at this wolf in sheep’s clothing,
a chill running down my spine.
“Ashley, I got you a beautiful dress. Go try it
on so your dad can see,” Sarah, my wife,
said, emerging from the bedroom with a gift
box, her eyes full of adoration for Ashley.
Ashley snatched the box excitedly and ran off
to change. It was on this day, in that very
dress, that she’d run from my study,
conveniently into a group of relatives, friends,
and colleagues who were there for her party.
“John! You monster! You abused your own
daughter!” they’d screamed. The police were
called, I was arrested, completely bewildered.
And Sarah, my wife of twenty years, had
stood there and accused me.
Ashley had just turned eighteen, the adopted
daughter angle, it all painted me as a social
predator, a monster.
<
The university suspended me, students who
once admired me spat in my face.
Ashley demanded a million dollars. Under
immense public pressure, I paid, using my
parents‘ inheritance.
Sarah divorced me, taking everything I had
left.
Then came the depression, the jump, the end.
After my death, I saw them, Sarah and Ashley,
arm in arm with a strange man at the scene
of my suicide.
“Dad, how do I look?” Ashley’s sweet voice
snapped me back to reality. Looking at her, I
noticed a striking resemblance to Sarah,
almost like a younger version.
<
We’d adopted Ashley when she was two.
After that, Sarah poured all her energy into
her, even giving her her last name. Even so, I
never suspected they could be mother and
daughter.
I pulled away from Ashley, uncomfortable. “It’s
beautiful,” I mumbled. “I’m going to the store
to get groceries. We’ll have a lot of guests.
tonight.”
I stood up and walked out.
“Wait, John!” Sarah called after me. I froze,
turning back to face them.
“Don’t forget Ashley’s favorite cherry cake,”
she said, beaming.
