She Is No Longer My Daughter
Chapter 1
My daughter hates me.
I enrolled her in piano lessons, and she
accused me of wanting to parade her on
stage for others‘ amusement.
She wanted to meet a guy she met online, but
I forbade it. She claimed I was restricting her
freedom.
She won a gold medal at a national piano
competition, her future bright, but in a public
interview, she declared I only saw her as a
cash cow.
Later, I had a heart attack. She flushed my
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medication down the toilet, saying I should
have died long ago.
Reborn, I sold the expensive piano and
stopped paying for her lessons.
I watched her fall from grace, unmoved.
And then, she regretted everything.
- 1.
My phone buzzed with a text from the piano
teacher.
“Mrs. Miller, Lily’s tuition for next semester is
due. It’s the usual, $4,800.”
“Also, has she been preoccupied lately? She’s
been on her phone during lessons and hasn’t
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practiced. Her assignments have been
overdue for two weeks.”
“At this rate, she won’t even qualify for the
national competition, let alone win.”
“Please talk to her. Her future is important.”
I stared at the familiar words, my breath
catching.
I’d received this same message in my past
life.
Back then, I confronted Lily, only to learn she
had an online boyfriend, ten years older, and
planned to meet him.
She was underage. I knew this online
relationship would likely end badly, so I
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refused to let her go.
She threw a tantrum, threatened to run away,
and smashed her brand–new piano with a
wrench.
The piano, a near $10,000 gift for her
sixteenth birthday.
Of course, I didn’t give in.
I paid a fortune to repair the piano, made her
delete the game, paid for her lessons, and
supervised her practice every day.
Through hard work, she won the gold medal
at the competition, impressing judges and
earning a scholarship to a prestigious music
school.
Her future was limitless.
I was so proud of her.
But then, in the post–competition interview,
she tearfully accused me of unspeakable
things.
She said I was the person she hated most.
She said piano lessons were just a way for
me to exploit her.
She said I drove away her father and
grandmother, keeping her from her loved
ones.
She said I forbade her from true love, forcing
her to break up with her boyfriend.
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She said I was poor and pinned all my hopes
on her, turning her into a money–making
machine.
Her voice cracked, moving the reporters to
tears.
Watching the interview on TV, I had a heart
attack.
She was right beside me. She watched as I
clutched my chest, then calmly flushed my
medication down the toilet, her eyes filled
with malice and satisfaction.
“Why bother with pills? You should have died
already.”
Those were the last words I heard.
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My spirit floated above, watching her call 911,
feigning grief as paramedics took my body
away.
In front of the media, she sobbed
dramatically, gaining public sympathy.
The music school waived all her fees and
offered a $20,000 annual stipend.
A famous pianist declared her his protégé,
promising to send her abroad to study.
Soon, she reunited with her estranged father,
posting photos of their reunion and receiving
online blessings.
And me?
People online said I deserved it. that karma
had finally caught up.
My ashes were buried in a neglected
cemetery. Tourists would spit on my grave as
a morbid ritual.
My husband, John, had cheated. I feared his
mistress would mistreat Lily, so I gave up
everything to get custody.
I worked multiple jobs to pay for her piano
lessons.
I hired the best teachers, sacrificing
everything for her talent.
Years of sweat and tears, I built her a
pedestal, and she threw me under it.
So much for a mother–daughter bond.
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I typed a reply to the piano teacher.
“I’m sorry, but I won’t be paying for Lily’s
lessons next semester.”
“If she wants to continue, her father can pay.”
If she never appreciated my sacrifices and
saw me as an enemy, then so be it.
This time, I’d give her the freedom she
wanted.
