The Year I Was the Other Woman To Myself novel Chapter 781

"I don't like him!"

Marico Stapleton strode over. Mr. Stapleton tried to stop him, but Marico forcefully pushed him away, rushing up to Mrs. Stapleton with a ruthless glare.

"I don't agree, you can't give birth to him!"

Saying this, he raised his fist, aiming directly at his mother's stomach.

"Why don't you just take a knife and kill me?" Mrs. Stapleton yelled at him. "If I give you my life, will you let me go?"

Marico stared at her, his eyes trembling violently. "You'd risk your life to protect him. What about me? Am I not your child? Why do you treat me like this?"

Mrs. Stapleton covered her stomach and stepped back. "When you were born, we loved you very much. But you were inherently rebellious. No matter how we taught you, you wouldn't listen. We started to lower our expectations, and as you grew up, those expectations dropped even further. In the end, we only hoped you wouldn't cause trouble. But you kept causing trouble again and again, and we had to apologize endlessly. We lost all our face."

"You ask me why I treat you like this, but why do you treat us like this? Was it a mistake to give birth to you?"

"I'm pregnant again. You don't agree. But Marico, what right do you have to disagree? Can you bring us joy or take care of us in our old age?"

Mrs. Stapleton choked up as she spoke, but she managed to finish everything in one breath.

Marico's fiery rage slowly subsided, and he lowered his head. After a long silence, he let out a bitter scoff.

"So I'm naturally annoying. I deserve not to be liked. Even my parents..."

His voice cracked, and he just laughed once before turning toward the stairs.

"I wish you two many children, all well-behaved and obedient. If any of them are like me, just beat them to death. And as you wish, I won't come back to this place again."

He walked downstairs step by step, deliberately slowing his pace, but neither of his parents made a move to stop him.

Sitting in his car, Marico punched the steering wheel repeatedly to vent his boiling anger. He pulled out onto the road, pushing his speed up to eighty miles per hour on the city streets.

His pupils shrank, his face was cold, and his expression was completely unhinged.

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