I acted normally the next morning and drove Cecelia to the kindergarten.When we got out of the car, a teacher enthusiastically held Cecelia’s hand.“I’m sure this is the new kid. Let me take you to the class to check in.” I held Cecelia’s hand, smiled, and said, “Cece, let’s go. I’ll take you there.”In the next second, Cecelia swung off my hand, got down on her knees, and cried profusely.“No, I don’t want to go with you. Mom, please let me go to school. I don’t want to take naked photos for those guys.”Her cries were piercing. There were other parents around. Their expressions changed as they walked toward me.The teacher vigilantly shielded Cecelia behind her.“Madam, what did you do to the kid? Naked photos? Are you out of your mind?!”It was a repeat of the scene. During my previous life, that female teacher had pulled Cecelia to her back and pinned the blame on me.Before I could explain myself, the parents had surrounded me. Then, the teacher had fished out Cecelia’
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