Chapter 1

Tags: Smart FL, Toxic Family, Pathological Liar, Rebirth Revenge, Trap

My mother was a pathological liar who loved playing the victim while making me her scapegoat.

When I was little, she lost track of time playing underground poker and forgot to make dinner.

In front of the entire family, she slapped me hard across the face.

"This little brat vanished out of nowhere! I spent hours searching the streets for her—that's why dinner isn't ready!"

Because of that lie, I was forced to kneel outside in the freezing yard all night.

In middle school, during the most critical state exam, the teacher repeatedly instructed parents to prepare our test packets.

Mom didn't pack mine at all. Afterward, she cried in front of all my classmates,

"I packed everything in her bag! She just chickened out and threw it away on the way to school!"

For the rest of my school years, I was completely ostracized.

When I grew up, she would come into my room late at night and sob,

"Mark has abused me for years. The only reason I haven't walked away is because of you."

Out of sympathy, I begged her to divorce him. The next morning, she twisted every word and ran to my dad.

"Your daughter is trying to break us up! She said she doesn't need a pathetic loser for a father! I couldn't bear to keep it from you!"

Dad flew into a blind rage. In the chaos, he shoved me off the balcony. I died on impact.

When I opened my eyes again, I was right back to the night she first came into my room to cry about Dad...

"Vivian, your father is an absolute monster..."

"If it weren't for you, I would have walked out on him years ago."

Her voice was painfully familiar.

My eyes snapped open. Mom was sitting on the edge of my bed, tears streaming down her face.

Hearing the exact same line from my past life, I finally realized: I had been reborn.

"My life has been nothing but pure agony..."

She took my hand. A warm tear fell onto my skin.

Just like before, her performance was flawless.

This time, I didn't rush to comfort her. I just quietly wiped the tear from the back of my hand.

"Mom,"

I said softly, "Dad... can really be out of line sometimes."

Thinking she had hooked me, she cried even harder.

"He doesn't care about this family! He hoards every dime for himself and leaves us to suffer!"

"Last week, I just wanted to buy a new coat, and he cursed me out like a dog!"

I listened quietly, mocking her in my head.

Last week?

Last week, Dad bought her an expensive gold necklace. She showed it off to her poker buddies, claiming she bought it with her own secret stash of cash.

"And yesterday!"

She sniffled loudly. "I just wanted a decent dinner, and he slammed his fork down, screaming that I was wasting his money!"

Dad had been out of town on business yesterday. He didn't even get home until two in the morning.

I raised my hand and gently patted her back.

"Mom, don't make yourself sick over this."

She grabbed my hand like a lifeline.

"Vivian, you understand me! You're the only one who truly gets me!"

Her tears came on command. Her acting was pure perfection.

"I can't live like this for another second! If it weren't for you, I would have..."

She stopped abruptly, her eyes secretly scanning my face to measure my reaction.

In my last life, this was the exact moment I took the bait and said:

"If it weren't for me, you would have divorced him long ago, right?"

"I'm so sorry you had to suffer all these years for me, Mom..."

I thought it was a tender moment between mother and daughter. Instead, she weaponized it, painting me as the ungrateful daughter trying to tear the family apart.

In this life, I would never repeat that mistake.

"Mom,"

I cut her off, keeping my voice gentle.

"This is between you and Dad. You're both adults. Whatever you choose to do, that's entirely up to you."

Mom froze. Her sobs hitched in her throat.

A flash of confusion crossed her face. She clearly hadn't expected this answer.

In my past life, I would have been bursting with indignation, swearing to stand by her side.

"Vivian, what... what are you saying? Isn't everything I do for you?"

"For me?" I looked at her with calm eyes. "Mom, I'm grown now. Your happiness shouldn't be chained to my existence."

Her gaze began to shift nervously.

She let go of my hand and messily wiped her dry tears.

"Are you... are you annoyed with me? Do you think I'm nagging?"

"No." I shook my head. "I just think this is a marital issue. As your daughter, it's not my place to interfere."

Look at her.

She never wanted a divorce.

She just needed the martyr complex—the noble excuse of "enduring abuse for the sake of the child"—to gain sympathy and justify all her demands.

I sneered inwardly and whispered:

"Mom, I'm exhausted."

She paused, studying my face, trying to see if I was telling the truth.

Her mouth parted as if she wanted to push further.

I didn't give her the chance. I turned around and pulled the covers over my shoulders.

"You should get some sleep too, Mom."

The room fell silent for a few seconds.

Finally, I heard her stand up and walk toward the door.

"Fine. Get some rest."

Late into the night, after all footsteps had faded, I started to relax, assuming she hadn't suspected anything.

The very next second, a muffled voice from the crack beneath the door sent chills down my spine.

Mom was whispering into her phone in the kitchen, her tone laced with suppressed excitement.

"Don't worry, she didn't suspect a thing... Wait for my next update."