"Don't believe her! Don't you dare believe her!"
Zhao Jingrong's wailing couldn't stop the video from playing. The sound from the speakers reverberated clearly in everyone's ears.
She said—
"Zhiyuan, don't blame Mom. If you must blame someone, blame Ni Yang. It's her, it's all her fault! Debts go to their rightful owners. If you're harboring resentment and want revenge, make sure you don't target the wrong person!"
After saying this, the sleeping Mo Zhiyuan raised his hand to scratch his face.
But this small gesture from Mo Zhiyuan didn't change Zhao Jingrong's mind, nor did it evoke a shred of empathy in her.
The next moment, she pulled up the blanket, covered Mo Zhiyuan's head, and pressed down forcefully.
A minute, two minutes, three minutes...
The atmosphere grew terrifyingly quiet.
Both in and out of the video.
No one expected Zhao Jingrong to smother Mo Zhiyuan with her own hands.
