“You want to talk about love, but you do it in secret. Is being sneaky more fun? You’re just as cheap as your father!” Her words cut deep, each accusation a knife twisting in my heart.
Tears streamed down my face as I pleaded, “Mom, I didn’t do anything! I’m not like that; he wronged me!”
With a sharp slap, she struck my face, sending a jolt through my body. “You think that man framed you? Look in the mirror and see what you really are! How could he possibly frame you?”
She suddenly pulled out a fruit knife, pressing it to her neck. “Record a video right now and post it in the family group, saying you are no longer my daughter. I don’t have a daughter like you. If you don’t, I’ll die right here in front of you.”
Panic surged through me as desperation clawed at my throat. I reluctantly recorded the video and posted it in the family group, knowing she would get exactly what she wanted. Moments later, she added a message: “From today on, Kimberly is no longer my daughter. Whatever she’s done has nothing to do with me. If you want to criticize her, blame her scumbag father instead.”