After my son Carson Howard’s wife Harley Howard became pregnant with their third child, I, Scarlett Howard, decided to work as a nanny to help support the family financially. However, when Carson learned about the employer’s information, his face instantly changed, and he absolutely refused to let me take the job. I patiently explained that this employer was very generous, offering three times the market rate, but Carson remained firmly opposed. To prevent me from leaving the house, he cruelly broke both my legs and imprisoned me at home. I wanted Harley to help persuade him, but Carson must have said something to her because she glared at me angrily: “At your age, you still want to run around outside. How shameless!” I couldn’t understand why they were treating me this way when everything I was doing was for this family. Later, because I couldn’t get timely medical treatment, my legs began to rot. I finally found a chance to contact my husband Kevin Howard, hoping he could rescue me. When Kevin, who had been married to me for fifty years, saw me, he only praised Carson: “You did the right thing! That’s exactly how you should handle restless people like her—lock them up at home.” They locked me in the pigpen at home, and I died shortly after. When I opened my eyes again, I had returned to the day I decided to become a nanny. ***** “Mom, did you find a job? Harley and I really can’t afford to raise so many children. This is your grandchild too—you need to do your part!” The familiar voice rang out. I opened my eyes and saw Carson supporting Harley, both holding a medical report. Though this should have been joyful news, I felt only coldness in my heart. I didn’t have time to congratulate them. Instead, I immediately grabbed my phone to check the time, finally confirming that I had been reborn. In my previous life, after Harley became pregnant, I came to the city to help her take care of my granddaughter Claire Howard. The second year, she got pregnant again and gave birth to another daughter. I told her that boys and girls were the same, that two children were enough, and I couldn’t handle caring for more. However, by the fourth year, she was pregnant again. To ease the family’s financial burden, Carson suggested I work as a nanny for others. Nannies earned good money these days and could help supplement the household income. I followed his suggestion and quickly found a job. After the interview, the employer was very satisfied with my performance, and I could officially start work in a few days. I shared this good news with Carson. When he heard I could earn twelve thousand dollars a month as a nanny, he seemed very happy. But when he saw the employer’s information, his expression suddenly darkened. He said: “You’re not going! Quit this job immediately. You absolutely cannot work for that family!” I didn’t understand why he reacted so strongly. Thinking he felt the salary was too low, I quickly explained: “The employer said this twelve thousand dollars is just the probationary salary. If I do well, they’ll give me raises later. Don’t worry, I’ll definitely work hard.” Hearing this, Carson became even more furious and turned to shout at me: “I said you’re not going, so you’re not going!” Seeing his attitude, I felt somewhat displeased. This was a good job paying twelve thousand dollars a month—what a shame to give it up. I said: “Why can’t I take such a good job? If I don’t go, how will you afford to raise three children?” I mentioned the three children, hoping to make him understand the logic. However, he kicked me in the chest: “Why do you insist on going to that particular family?” I was knocked to the ground, clutching my chest and gasping for air, my heart filled with shock. I asked with difficulty: “Do you know them? Why can’t I go?” Carson snorted coldly: “I said no, so it’s no! From now on, you’ll stay home and take care of the children, or I’ll beat you to death!” Our argument drew Harley over. She quickly helped me up from the floor and asked: “What happened? How could you lay hands on your mother?” Carson leaned close to Harley and whispered something in her ear. Harley’s expression instantly changed: “You shameless woman, still restless at your age! You’re not going! You’ll stay home and take care of the children!” I kept asking for reasons, but Carson and Harley only grew more furious. Finally, Carson actually rushed into the kitchen, grabbed a rolling pin, and brutally broke both my legs. He said viciously: “Now let’s see how you escape!” I was confined at home, unable to move a single step due to the excruciating pain in my legs. Carson only gave me one cup of water daily to keep me alive, just enough to prevent me from dying of thirst. One day, when Carson wasn’t home, I used Claire’s phone watch to contact Kevin, telling him to hurry to the city to rescue me. When he arrived and saw my rotting legs, he angrily scolded Carson: “Your mother working as a nanny was for your own good. Why did you beat her? She’s your mother! How can your heart be so cruel?” Carson looked at me with a dark expression and handed the employer’s information to Kevin. But when Kevin glanced at it, he too froze in place.
The next second, he slapped me hard across the face. “You bitch, you’re not going!” “You restless piece of trash, I should beat you to death!” Watching their reactions, my heart sank into complete despair. Yet I still couldn’t give up and pressed on: “Why? Why can’t I go?” Kevin didn’t answer. He just turned to Carson and said, “We can’t let her go. Lock her up and keep her locked up until she dies!” Carson scratched his head anxiously. As if something occurred to him, he said, “Let’s take her back to the village and lock her up so she can never get out!” Kevin agreed with this decision, so they brought me back to the village and locked me in a pigsty, where I lived and ate with the pigs. Since my leg wound went untreated, it rapidly worsened, and I eventually died in that pigsty. Even until my death, I couldn’t understand why they all wanted me dead after hearing I was going to work as a nanny. Fortunately, God gave me a chance to be reborn, allowing me the opportunity to figure all this out. At this moment, I stared at Carson’s seemingly kind smile, steadied myself, and said, “Not yet. The employer thought I was too old.” In my previous life, after being hired by the employer, I had excitedly told them the news. This time, I chose to keep it secret, which should prevent any problems. Carson said, “Didn’t the agency say that experienced people like you are the most popular?” There was already a hint of suspicion in his eyes. “You’re not trying to avoid going and deliberately saying you can’t find work, are you?” I laughed awkwardly and explained, “Carson, how can you say that about me? I still need to earn money to help support the family. I’ll call the agency in a bit to help me find a suitable job.” Carson nodded. “Harley is pregnant now, and everything costs money. If you really can’t find work, you can go wash dishes. Every little bit helps.” I agreed and quickly ducked into the kitchen to start cooking. To avoid being discovered, I even tucked my phone into my pocket, worried that Carson might check it and realize I had already found a job. But it was precisely this action that made him even more suspicious. While I was cooking in the kitchen, I heard Carson making a phone call outside. He said, “Hello, is this the agency? I wanted to ask if you’ve found work for my mom yet?” Despite the range hood roaring in my ears, I instantly caught his voice. I immediately became nervous and rushed out of the kitchen. Carson said, “Oh, you already found something. Okay, I got it.” The moment he hung up, Carson’s expression suddenly turned dark. Realizing things were going badly, I immediately tried to run outside. However, with my aging body, there was no way I could match him. Carson grabbed my hair with one hand and raised the other high, slapping me hard across the face. He cursed, “Bitch, I knew you weren’t being honest! Of all the things you could do, you had to go work as someone’s servant! Are you that desperate to be degraded?” The scene from my previous life was playing out again, but I still didn’t understand why he was dissatisfied when I found work, even though he was the one who told me to look for a job in the first place. Having learned from my previous life, I knew that if I insisted on asking for reasons now, I would only face an even more brutal outcome. The most important thing right now was to get Carson to calm down first.
I collapsed to the floor, trembling all over, my eyes filled with terror. Clasping my hands together, I pleaded with Carson: “Carson, everything I did was for you and your family! That boss pays well, and all the money I earned went to you. If you don’t want me to go, I won’t. I’ll go wherever you want me to.” However, upon hearing these words, Carson’s expression didn’t soften at all—instead, it grew even darker. He cursed angrily: “You still dare to say that! Playing the victim won’t work on me. Don’t think you can escape this way!” Seeing his growing rage, I knew deep down that nothing I said would help now. My only thought was to get out of there—fast! I struggled to my feet against the wall and desperately rushed toward the door, trying to escape to somewhere with people around. The moment I opened the door, I screamed at the top of my lungs: “Help! My son is trying to kill me! Help!” Carson immediately lunged forward, covering my mouth with his hand and forcefully dragging me back inside by my collar: “Shut up!” Fortunately, the neighbors heard my cries for help and came out to see what was happening. When they saw me being roughly dragged around, they immediately stepped in to stop him. “Stop it! She’s your mother! How can you lay a hand on her?” “Let her go right now—I’ve already called the police! They’ll be here any minute.” “You animal! Your mother came to the city to help you take care of your child, and instead of being grateful, you dare to hit her!” More and more neighbors gathered at the scene, some even pulling out their phones to record Carson’s face. For a moment, he seemed hesitant to hit me. But he quickly came up with a strategy, sighing and saying: “Everyone, you’ve really misunderstood. My mother has mental health issues. She was just screaming and yelling at home, and I was afraid she’d disturb your rest, so I was trying to calm her down.” “That’s not true! He’s lying! I was cooking in the kitchen when he suddenly barged in and tried to kill me!” I quickly protested. The neighbors began to hesitate, looking back and forth between Carson and me, unsure whom to believe. Carson said: “If you don’t believe me, you can ask my wife—she knows about my mother’s mental illness too.” Carson called into the house, and Harley came out. He whispered something in her ear, and Harley immediately said loudly to me: “Mom, did you forget to take your medication again? Look how you’re affecting all the neighbors when you have an episode.” At that moment, Carson and Harley wore appropriate smiles on their faces, while I looked terrified and incoherent like a madwoman. Gradually, most of the neighbors chose to believe them rather than me. Just when I was about to despair, the police arrived. I immediately turned to the officers for help, while Carson calmly walked forward: “I’m sorry, officers. My mother does have mental health issues. We apologize for the trouble.” “I don’t have mental health issues! He attacked me first! Look at the injuries on my face—this animal nearly beat me to death. You have to save me, officers!” I quickly pointed to my swollen cheek to show the police. The officer looked sternly at Carson: “Even if she has mental health issues, you can’t hit her, especially not like this!” Carson sighed with feigned helplessness: “You’re absolutely right—I was wrong to do that. But when she has an episode, she attacks people, and I panicked in the moment and accidentally hit her. If you don’t believe me, I can call my father—he knows her condition best.” Before long, Kevin rushed over. When he saw the injuries on my face, he pulled me into his arms with heartache. He glared angrily at Carson: “You bastard! She’s your mother—can’t you talk things through instead of this?” Carson stepped forward and said to Kevin: “She insists on working as a servant for others to make money. Look at what she’s doing.” He pulled up the employer’s information on his phone—details the agency had just sent him. After Kevin carefully reviewed the information, he suddenly stood up. I immediately lost my support and fell to the ground again. Kevin cursed: “You bitch! All you ever think about is those foreigners! You still dare to run off—believe me, I’ll beat you to death!” Kevin’s earlier tenderness vanished instantly, replaced by pure rage, as if I had truly committed an unforgivable crime. In that moment, my last shred of hope was shattered. My heart filled with despair, and tears streamed down uncontrollably. I said: “I’m getting old. Going out to work and earn money is just to help you both! What exactly did I do wrong?” Kevin kicked me hard in the stomach: “You think that’s about making money? You know damn well what you’re really after.” Just as he was about to hit me again, the police quickly stepped forward to stop him: “No violence!” But Kevin flashed a smile at the officers: “Officer, this is a family matter. It’s none of your business, right?” He wasn’t wrong. Although I was injured, it wasn’t severe enough for the police to intervene. But once they left, only death awaited me. So I desperately grabbed the officer’s sleeve and pleaded: “Save me! They’ll beat me to death! I don’t want to die—please, save me!” I knelt humbly on the ground, tears streaming down my face. Carson and Kevin tried to pry my hands away and drag me back inside, but I clung tightly to the officer’s sleeve as if it were my only lifeline. Seeing that force wasn’t working, Carson immediately changed tactics and let go. He said: “Fine, Mom. I was only worried about you getting exhausted working outside, that’s why I tried to stop you. Since you want to go, then go ahead.” However, the cold gleam in his eyes sent chills down my spine. I immediately shook my head, saying frantically: “I won’t go anymore. I won’t work—I want to go home.” Carson turned to the police and shrugged helplessly: “You see, Officer? I told you she has mental problems, but you didn’t believe me. One minute she wants to work, the next she wants to go home. Who knows what she’s thinking?” Kevin took the opportunity to pull me toward the house, apologizing to the police: “Sorry for the trouble, Officers. You can go now. I’ll make sure to keep her under control so she doesn’t have another episode.” The police found their explanation reasonable and tried to get me to let go. But I refused to release my grip no matter what. This only convinced them further that I had mental issues, so they had no choice but to remove their jacket to break free. Then Carson and Kevin forcibly dragged me into the house. As the door was about to close, I struggled violently. Just then, Carson moved too abruptly and dropped his phone. When I caught a glimpse of the employer’s photo on the screen, I suddenly understood everything.
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