The Lingering Pain of Love and Hate Novel – On the day my mother passed away, I put on a white dress. Seven-year-old Santino Soto rushed up and used sharp scissors to tear my skirt apart, then poured a whole bucket of low-quality red paint on me.
“Today was my mother’s birthday, why did you dress so inauspiciously? She hated white the most!” The son of that person is indeed worthy, as both the father and son have the same person as their favorite.
My skin broke out in a dense rash due to an allergy, with blood and paint mixed together, and the wounds on my legs were both painful and itchy. Santino arrogantly taunted: “Don’t think that by marrying my father, you become the mistress of this house.
That position will always belong to my mother!” “Shameless third party, don’t ever expect me to acknowledge your identity in this lifetime!” Looking at this child who clearly has my blood, but crawled out of another woman’s belly, I suddenly felt very tired.
Originally, bloodline meant nothing, and seven years of nurturing couldn’t warm a heart. “You don’t have to acknowledge me, because I am about to leave.” The pungent paint splattered all over my body and face, causing an itchy sensation that made me furrow my brow. Santino snorted coldly.
“Serves you right, your face would be better off rotting away.” “You cunning bitch, thinking that by imitating my mother’s appearance and having others say we look alike, you can replace my mother? Dream on!” His eyes turned red with anger, as if he had suffered some great humiliation.
I have seen this kind of scene many times. Every time someone mentions that Santino’s face doesn’t resemble his late mother’s, but instead looks more and more like mine, Santino gets angry. In the past, I would always comfort him, saying that he was just a child of the Soto family, while I was only there because we had spent a long time together.