Chapter 1The Daughter in the Storm Drain

My daughter fell into a storm drain in our apartment complex, and soon after, a torrential downpour began. I desperately called property management for help. After my repeated pleas, they assured me my daughter had been rescued. But when I finally arrived home, my daughter was nowhere to be seen. When I found her again, she was floating in the icy storm drain, long gone.

Grief-stricken, I confronted property management, demanding answers. Instead, they used my status as an influencer against me, twisting the narrative to claim I had deliberately harmed my daughter for publicity. A furious wave of online abuse crashed down on me. Shattered by the loss of my child and the relentless cyberbullying, I drove in a daze, crashing head-on into an oncoming truck.

When I opened my eyes again, I was back at the moment my daughter fell. I quickly realized that the truth was far more sinister than I had ever imagined.

* * *

My phone suddenly rang, startling me. It was my daughter. I quickly answered.

“Mommy, I fell into a drain, and I’m so scared! Please come and save me!”

My daughter’s tearful voice came through the phone. In that moment, I knew I had been reborn.

“Piper, don’t be scared! It might rain soon, so feel around with your feet for anything you can stand on. Stand there and wait for Mommy. I’m bringing help right away!”

In my previous life, after receiving Piper’s call, I immediately dropped everything and rushed home. But my studio was too far from our apartment complex. On the way, a massive downpour caused traffic jams. To make matters worse, there was an accident on my route, and I was stuck, unable to move.

I could only call the property management, pleading and urging them to rescue her quickly. They readily promised, “Madam, don’t worry, our team is already on their way and is conducting the rescue.”

I felt a slight ease, calling Piper’s smart watch, but it wouldn't connect. Calling property management again, they told me my daughter had been rescued. I asked to speak to her, but they claimed she was frightened and had fallen asleep. At the time, I didn't think much of it, never imagining the property manager would lie to me.

When I finally got back to the complex, Piper was nowhere to be found. I frantically interrogated the property management, but they all became silent. I had no time for their nonsense and immediately contacted the fire department to search for my daughter.

When the firefighters found her, she was floating in the storm drain, lifeless.

Grief-stricken, I demanded answers from the property management. They all stuck to the same story, claiming they never received my distress call. I showed them my call logs, but they insisted I had only called to report a faulty motion-sensor light. I only regretted not recording the calls!

Afterward, a video of me arguing with the property management was posted online. The property staff collectively accused me of staging the incident for attention, claiming I had deliberately caused my daughter’s death for publicity. The internet mob, eager for drama, believed them and subjected me to a relentless online attack. Some even broke into my home, vandalizing it.

My husband, who was away on a business trip, rushed back but also believed the online rumors, insisting on a divorce. Overwhelmed by the loss and the cyberbullying, I was in a daze. While driving to pursue legal action, I crashed head-on into an oncoming truck.

Thankfully, fate had given me another chance. This time, I would save my daughter and ensure those heartless people at property management received their just punishment!

First, I called the fire department. Then, I called property management and began recording the call.

“Is this property management? My daughter fell into the storm drain in the complex. Please send someone to rescue her immediately!”

“Alright, we’ll send someone right over.”

They agreed readily, but I knew they wouldn’t actually help. This time, I chose a different route home. Although it was longer, it had less traffic and was mostly clear.

I called property management again, asking, “Has my daughter been rescued?”

“Our people are already working on it. Stop calling and rushing us. It won’t help; rescues have to be done step by step!”

They hung up abruptly, clearly annoyed.

By now, the rain had started, big drops pelting my car window. Despite the wipers, visibility was very poor.

I called Piper again. “Piper, are the property management staff near you?”