My mother-in-law shot me a contemptuous glance and scoffed, “A useless thing like you—only capable of giving birth to a money-losing girl—what right do you have to be angry? That brat dying was a blessing from the heavens, saving our family money. And yet you made a fuss, falsely accused Vanessa, and even dragged her into court. Aren’t you ashamed?"
"You’re worthless. You even let someone beat you until you can’t have children anymore. With so many people in this neighborhood, why did they target you? Maybe because you don’t behave yourself—probably your own shamelessness brought that trouble home."
"Vanessa is the capable one—her first child was a boy. If it weren’t for that, our family would’ve been in trouble. Anyway, I like Cooper, so I’ve already recognized him as my god-grandson. From now on, Vanessa’s status will be the same as yours.”
My mother-in-law was different from those who cared about social class or family background—she cared about one thing only: whether you could give her a grandson.
She had only escaped her bitter life because she gave birth to a son.