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Dad, I'm Letting You Go Novel Cover

Dad, I'm Letting You Go

Trapped within a wealthy family's sinister compound, a young child betrays their father's desperate escape plan for a simple piece of bread. This choice leads to the father's brutal punishment and eventual suicide, followed by the child's own violent death at their mother's hands. Upon being reborn to the very day of the escape, the protagonist faces the same pivotal moment. Surprisingly, they choose to expose the plan to Grandma once more, setting off a chilling cycle of survival and dark secrets.
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Chapter 3

At night, I slipped out of the compound and made my way to the hill behind it. The wild grass back there was thick, slicing my exposed skin until it was covered in blood. I endured the pain and gathered the herbs I recognized.

After coming back down, I stashed the herbs in my hiding spot and slowly walked toward the house.

The clouds had swallowed the moon, leaving everything in darkness. In the faint light, Mom's house in the compound looked like a giant beast with its mouth wide open, sucking the life out of Dad.

At dawn, I fought off my sleepiness and got up to cook, wanting to let Dad rest a little longer.

After I served breakfast, Mom glanced at me between bites. "This little brat is actually somewhat useful."

Grandma lifted my chin, sizing me up like merchandise, then smiled in approval.

She said, "Just as expected of a child born to someone from the city. Even at such a young age, you can already tell he's good-looking. When he grows up, he'll definitely sell for a good price. Some people out there have a taste for disabled people."

I lowered my gaze, pretending that I didn't understand what she was saying.

After they finished eating, I brought the leftovers to Dad, who was growing weaker by the day. He seemed to have accepted his fate. The light in his eyes was gone, and his strength was slowly fading.

I was consumed with worry, but I couldn't encourage him because he glared at me like I was his enemy.

Over the next few days, I went to the back hill every day to gather herbs.

Along the way, I always ran into Lucas Hayes. He was slow-witted, the adopted son of my third uncle, Dominic Hartwell. But I knew he wasn't actually foolish, and he was the only person who could help Dad.

…

Time passed quickly. A month later, Mom was found to be pregnant.

She was overjoyed and kept muttering, "I have a child now! I'm finally going to have an heir!"

For the first time, Grandma prepared a hearty meal for Dad as a reward.

But that same night, Dad secretly drugged Mom, causing her to miscarry. Blood ran down her legs, soaking the floor.

Mom's eyes burned with fury as she kicked Dad in the chest. "You bastard! How dare you make me lose my child!"

Dad fell to the ground, his face drained of color, but his eyes burned with resolve.

He said slowly and firmly, "I'll never allow another child of mine to be born from a human trafficker like you! Every child you bring into this world is a curse!"

The word "curse" struck me like a knife. I knew Dad was referring to me.

Mom was enraged; she grabbed a whip and lashed at Dad. "I paid good money for you, and you still dare to harm my child! I'll beat you to death!"

Dad writhed on the ground in pain, scrambling to get away from her. But Mom, wild with fury, quickly tied him to the foot of the bed so he couldn't escape.

From that night on, Dad was moved from the side room to the pigpen, chained there like an animal. Beneath him was nothing but dry straw. His clothes were in tatters, stained with dark red blood.

One of the other women from the compound passed by and asked about it out of curiosity.

Mom pursed her lips. "This useless stud had the nerve to drug me and make me lose the baby, so I'm teaching him a lesson. If he weren't so easy on the eyes, I would've sold him off already."

The woman smiled knowingly. "He really does need to be taught a lesson. Men are all the same—a few good beatings will set them straight. If that doesn't work, just ruin his mind, and he'll behave. You're only using him to have a child anyway; anything after won't be passed down to the baby."

She spoke with the ease of someone who had done this before, but Mom still hesitated. "If he's out of his mind, who's going to do the work around here?"

The woman pointed at me. "Isn't that the kid? Even though he limps, he looks capable enough from what I've seen."

Hearing the woman's words, Mom's eyes lit up, and she broke into a wide grin. "Olivia, you always know what to do."

I stood nearby and listened, my blood running cold. Time was running out. I couldn't afford to keep planning slowly anymore.

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