I dressed up as the evil stepmother in an ancient novel. In the original novel, the four children were all villains who would stir up troubles in the future.
As soon as I opened my eyes, I inherited the huge debt owed by the original owner and the reputation of abusing children.
The eldest son's eyes were like poisoned daggers, while the second son was covered in wounds but bared his teeth to protect his younger siblings.
The third child looked innocent on the surface, turned around and hid the kitchen knife.
The smallest one huddled in the corner, like a plucked fledgling.
There is no golden finger, no system, only the leaky roof of the woodshed and the sound of creditors banging on the door.
I licked my chapped lips: Guys, it seems that the job of a stepmother is more difficult than being a social animal in my previous life?
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