I checked the time on my phone. We were exactly two minutes away from the moment she had shoved her hand into the boiling Italian Tripe Soup in my previous life and falsely accused me.
As such, I quickly opened my photo gallery, scanning through it carefully. But no strange pictures. Nothing out of place.
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.