Chapter 1My Toxic Daughter’s Regret

I was the most famous lawyer in the city, with a constant stream of clients.

However, my career took a hit after I adopted my daughter — all because of her toxic, rebellious nature.

When I took a child abuse case, she told the victim’s family, “My father loves taking cases with little girls, because he loves little girls.”

When I hosted a seminar online, she barged into the camera and said, “Don’t believe my father! He uses his work to harass victims.”

Today, I joined a speech competition on behalf of my law firm. The audience was filled with VIPs.

I told her again and again not to act up. She promised, then turned to wail at the national panel of judges.

“My father said he’ll send me back to the orphanage because I won’t let him molest me. Are you sure you want him to represent you?”

I looked up at her triumphant, vicious gaze and stayed silent.

This time, however, she would soon regret it.

* * *

Three months ago, I took on a child abuse case.

The accused was the manager of a training facility who was suspected of using corporal punishment against many young girls.

I represented the victims through a non-profit organization and spent three long days in court, proving my case with the evidence and the families’ testimony.

Even now, I could not bear to look too closely at the photos of the girls' bruises.

On the day we settled, I finally got the accused to agree to compensation and a public apology.

The mother of one of the victims grasped my hand in tears. “Thank you, Mr. Lincoln. You did so much for our family!”

As I was about to reply, the door opened with a creak.

Seven-year-old Nancy poked her head into the room, holding a doll. Her eyes were bright.

The mother smiled at her. “What an adorable little girl.”

Nancy smiled too, sweetly and innocently, her eyes narrowing into slits. Then she tilted her head and said naively,

“There's no need to thank my father, ma'am. He loves taking cases with little girls, because he loves little girls.”

The air froze.

The mother's hand stiffened in mid-air, then she slowly pulled it back. Her gaze on me went from grateful to terrified and then to suspicious.

I wanted to explain, but Nancy spoke before I could.

“Am I right, Daddy? Don't you have a ton of pictures of little girls in your desk drawer?”

Those photos were from the case files!

However, the woman had leapt to her feet, knocking her chair to the ground. She practically ran out of the conference room without even taking her handbag.

That afternoon, the director of the law firm called me to his office for a chat. That family had called off our contract and even written a strongly worded complaint letter.

I spent half a month clarifying the matter, but the rumors had already spread.

“Frank Lincoln? Isn't he the lawyer who takes children's cases because of his perverted preferences?”

“Why go to him? We're better off choosing an intern because at least an intern wouldn't dare to put a foot out of line. Famous lawyers these days are getting too cocky. If they do anything untoward, we'll regret it!”

Afterward, I asked Nancy why she would say such a thing.

She shook her head and went back to playing with her building blocks on the carpet. She did not even look up at me.

“If I didn't say that, would you be sitting here and playing with me now?

“Besides, it was fun to see them so terrified.” Her lips curved at that.

I suppressed my anger and explained patiently, “Nancy, I'll play with you after work, but you need to know when to say these things. You'll affect my work and my reputation.”

My wife added, “That's right, Nancy. Your father loves you very much, so you should be considerate of him too.”

Nancy immediately grew angry at that. She pushed the tower she had been building viciously, the colorful plastic blocks falling all over the place. Then she ran into her room with a huff.

“I refuse! Hmph, I'll keep rebelling against Daddy and make him suffer. Only then will he obey me.”

She wanted me to obey her?

For the first time, I felt a twinge of fear toward my daughter. The next moment, however, I told myself that it was normal for a seven-year-old girl to want her father's attention and care.

I sighed and convinced myself to relax. She was just young… Surely things would improve once she got older?