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Get Rid of My Toxic Dad in My Second Life Novel Cover

Get Rid of My Toxic Dad in My Second Life

After her father steals her boss's cash to lend to a neighbor, a young woman is blamed by her family and forced into a dangerous housekeeping job to repay the debt. Following a horrific assault and her subsequent murder at the hands of her employer's daughter, she unexpectedly wakes up in the past. Returning to the day the money first vanished, she realizes she must break free from her treacherous family to survive. This time, she will not be their victim.
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Chapter 2

Dad's eyes lit up at my words. But of course, he wouldn't call Mom or Sean to ask them about the money. He just returned to his bedroom to search for a bank card.

He was such a lover of loaning others money that while still in high school, I'd known better and reminded Mom to set up a bank account without his knowledge. Life would only become harder without it.

She'd talked about me not knowing anything because I was young, but she'd still opened the bank account. Over the years, she'd saved about 40 thousand dollars in that account—it was money she'd set aside for Sean's marriage and for him to buy a car.

In my past life, no one in my family had touched the money despite knowing I could possibly end up in jail without it. Yet on the day I'd become an old man's housekeeper to make some money, Sean had bought a new car.

Dad turned the house upside down before finally finding the bank card and a savings passbook hidden in a vase. He cursed when he saw the balance. "Blast it! Gwen Lynch! How dare you save all this money behind my back?"

After that, he made to leave the house. I asked, "Aren't you going to ask Mom what the money is for?"

"What's there to ask? Every dime in this household is the fruit of my labor." He left. When he returned, he had a check for 40 thousand dollars.

He asked our neighbor to drop by and handed him the check. Our neighbor said, "This much? I only need 20 thousand dollars."

"Take it all." Dad sounded as generous as a millionaire. "Use the remainder for your renovations."

Our neighbor said he would sign an IOU, but Dad said, "You'll be insulting me by signing that rubbish."

Our neighbor left happily, and Dad looked pleased. I stood up and said, "It's best to have an IOU when you lend others money, Dad. He might not return the money without it."

He rolled his eyes at me. "Being owed a favor is much better than being owed money. This is the way of the world—you still have plenty to learn."

He loved talking about these things. It was somewhat of an obsession for him. According to him, none of his relatives wanted to have anything to do with his family because of how poor they'd been. Because of that, he overcompensated by helping anyone who needed it.

If anyone needed money, he would lend it to them. If anyone needed physical help, he would also be there to help. He even wanted the whole family to do it with him. Many relatives were willing to socialize with him because of this, but we all knew it was just because they wanted to take advantage of him.

…

I wasn't fired in this life because I'd successfully paid the workers. I didn't expect Dad to soon land me in hot water again, though.

When I got back home after work one day, there was a stranger at home. Dad told me the man was a friend of his by the surname of Lawson. He was the owner of a small factory, and it turned out the taxation department would be checking his accounts in the near future.

His wife had been his previous accountant, but everything was in a mess. So, he wanted a professional to help him with it.

I looked through the ledger he brought and said bluntly, "I can't do it."

Dad's expression darkened, but he didn't fly off the handle with Mr. Lawson around. Instead, he lowered his voice and said, "Take a better look. Doing the accounts for such a small factory must be easier than doing your company's accounts. Why don't you just lend him a hand and get it done?"

I returned the ledger to Mr. Lawson and said, "There are many problems with your accounts, Mr. Lawson. I would advise you to come clean to the taxation department as soon as possible."

The accounts weren't just in a mess. It was evident they'd done some covering up. It sounded like Mr. Lawson only wanted someone to tidy up his bookkeeping, but he was actually asking me to perfect the shoddy job.

Faking a company's accounts was illegal. I didn't want to get arrested because of a stranger.

Mr. Lawson paled at my words. Then, he hurriedly left. Dad ran after him.

I returned to my room to take a shower. I'd already taken some of my clothes off when Dad suddenly barged in, making me scream. He slapped me and roared, "Who the heck do you think you are?"

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