Zhuang Rouhui had not expected Yue Jiandong to defend Zhang Ying in this way.
Aren't all men in this world supposed to mind if their wives give birth to someone else's child?
"Are you even a man? How can you not raise your own child and instead raise someone else's child?"
Yue Jiandong looked at Zhuang Rouhui with a pitying gaze identical to that of his daughter.
"How unfortunate must a person be to regard the ability to give birth as a talent and have no other pursuit in life?"
Yue Jiandong, with Zhang Ying in his arms, said, "My wife and I have raised Qingqing, so she is of course our daughter. In contrast, a woman like you, who came out of nowhere, is not fit to be a mother."
Zhang Ying, leaning against her husband, had tears glittering in her eyes.
As if she had found new courage in Yue Jiandong's words, she tightly grasped her husband's hand.
Zhuang Rouhui looked at the loving couple across from her and felt a surge of resentment flooding her heart.
