A hint of sensual fatigue shone through Han Qianqian's eyes as she offered a charming, seductive smile. "This is the reason why I came to see you today. This time, if you leave Shi Yuhuan, he will definitely marry me."
Song Qinghuan squinted at her, a vague sense of unease churned in her heart, hinting at an ominous premonition.
"He's the father of the child!"
Song Qinghuan was stunned, taking a moment before she could react.
She abruptly stood up, a cold laugh escaping from her lips: "Do you take me for a three-year-old?"
Han Qianqian looked up at her, a cool, mocking smile played on her lips. "Of course you're not three years old, and I have no intention of deceiving you. But this is the truth."
It seemed unbelievable, too false to be true. And yet, even with her certainty, Song Qinghuan felt a sharp sting slicing across her chest.
