I Refuse to Let My Daughter Die Twice

My daughter was murdered on her eleventh birthday during a brutal snuff livestream on the dark web.

The chat was flooded with the sick revelry and obscene tips of twisted buyers.

"Break her legs a little more."

"I want to hear her cry out."

Lying in a pool of blood, my daughter cried out in sheer despair: "Mom... save me... it hurts so much..."

Watching my daughter take her last breath amid violent convulsions, I clawed at my own fingers until they were torn and bloody.

The police told me it was her elegant ballet instructor, Serena, who had sent her to hell. And the one who helped Serena cover her tracks was my husband, David.

In my utter despair, I swallowed an entire bottle of sleeping pills.

When I opened my eyes again, I had been thrown back to the very day I was supposed to take my daughter to her ballet class.

Sitting in the passenger seat, dressed in her ballet tutu, my daughter looked at me with eyes full of anticipation.

"Hurry up, Mom. Ms. Serena said we're rehearsing the solo for Swan Lake today."

The blood in my veins instantly ran cold.

...

Staring at the GPS indicating we were about to arrive, I jerked the steering wheel hard, spinning the car around as the tires shrieked against the asphalt.

Chloe looked up, her eyes filled with worry.

"Mom, what's wrong? You look so pale."

I stared at her flawless, uninjured face, hearing my own voice tremble violently. "We're going home. We're not going."

In my previous life, it was on this very afternoon that I walked Chloe into Serena's apartment.

And it was on this very afternoon that Chloe was reduced to a plaything for the dark web.

Serena—that elegant woman with a master's degree from Juilliard—was actually a demonic broker who hunted underage girls for wealthy dark web clients.

"But Mom, Ms. Serena said we have to rehearse the solo for Swan Lake today..."

"I said we're not going! We are never going again!" My voice grew shrill, driven by extreme terror and rage.

I grabbed Chloe's hand and squeezed it tightly, as if letting go for even a second would turn her back into that lifeless corpse on the screen.

Fifteen minutes later, I pulled Chloe along as I pushed open the front door of our house.

In the living room, my husband, David, was lounging on the sofa with his legs crossed, watching a golf tournament.

His sister, my sister-in-law Samantha, was sitting by the coffee table, painting her nails.

Seeing us return, David furrowed his brows, his gaze dropping to Chloe. "Why are you two back? Shouldn't she be at Serena's for her lesson right now? That class costs five hundred dollars a session—do you think my money just grows on trees?"

"The class is canceled. Chloe is never taking ballet again." I stared coldly at the man before me.

In my last life, after Chloe went missing, he was the one who repeatedly stopped me from calling the police, claiming a scandal would ruin his chances of making partner at his firm.

"Are you out of your mind, Evangeline?" David shot up from the couch, striding over to tower above me in accusation. "Serena is the best ballet instructor in the city! Do you have any idea how much effort it took me to hire her?"

"Was it effort to hire her, or was it effort to please her?" I met his gaze without backing down.

I only found out later in my previous life that David had been sleeping with Serena. He had even tacitly approved of Serena's "special arrangements" for Chloe, all just to tap into the network of wealthy elites backing her.

"What the hell are you talking about?!" David's eyes darted away for a split second before he raised his voice, desperately trying to mask his guilt.

Beside us, Samantha blew on her wet nail polish and rolled her eyes, her tone dripping with sarcasm. "Evangeline, you're not actually jealous of Serena being young and pretty, are you? She's a top Juilliard graduate. And you? Just a washed-up housewife who's done nothing but hover around the stove since graduation. My brother spends good money to cultivate Chloe, and instead of being grateful, you're throwing a hysterical fit. You're completely unreasonable."

"Shut up!" I snapped my head toward her, glaring daggers at Samantha. "You don't get a say in this. She is my daughter, and if I say we aren't going, we aren't going!"

"You're out of control!" Furious, David reached out to grab Chloe. "Come on, Chloe, Daddy will take you right now. Ignore your crazy mother."

"Don't touch her!" I yanked Chloe behind me and snatched a pair of scissors off the coffee table.

Under their shocked gazes, I grabbed the skirt of Chloe's expensive tutu and relentlessly chopped through the layers of tulle until the dress was shredded.

"What are you doing?! That dress cost twelve hundred dollars!" David roared in agony over the money.

"What's more important, your money or your daughter?" I slammed the scissors back onto the table. "David, I'm warning you. If you ever dare take Chloe to that woman behind my back, I will make you regret you were ever born."

David stared at my bloodshot eyes, like those of a fiercely protective lioness. He was clearly stunned by this level of manic intensity, something he had never seen in me before.

He cursed under his breath, muttering "crazy bitch," then snatched up his car keys and slammed the door as he stormed out. Samantha, grumbling curses of her own, retreated to the guest room.

The living room finally fell silent. Terrified, Chloe shrank into my arms, tears welling up in her eyes. "Mom, you're scaring me today."

I crouched down and held her tight, finally letting my tears fall freely onto her shoulders.

I heard my own trembling voice: "I'm sorry, baby. Mommy is just... so terrified of losing you."

I let go of her and took a deep breath, forcing myself to calm down.

I knew David too well. He was selfish and greedy; there was no way my singular outburst would make him give up his connection to Serena.

I had to prepare for the worst.