Seeing my grief and anger, Alexander hesitated for a moment and was about to say something.
Isabella timidly huddled into his arms and whispered, "Brother Alexander, the photo is so scary. I'm scared...and the baby is scared too."
The man who had a calm expression just now suddenly became cold and hard.
He picked up his daughter's photo and showed a cruel expression.
I hurriedly shook my head and begged frantically:
"don't want--"
"Alexander, this is my daughter's only ..."
Before he could finish his words, he tore the portrait in half.
Looking at the incomplete photo of my daughter, my heart felt like it was cut in two.
Tears flowed unconsciously from the corners of my eyes: I looked at him fiercely: "Alexander, one day you will regret it, I'm waiting!"
The man sneered, "It's just a photo, I won't regret it!"
As soon as he finished speaking, Isabella behind him covered her stomach and screamed:
"ah--"
"What is this? It feels so yin that the fetus in my belly can't even breathe."
When I saw it was my daughter's urn, I rushed forward to grab it, but was pushed to the ground by Alexander.
When the man opened it and saw that it was ashes, he immediately scolded me: