Amelia Wytte's heart jumped violently. Without thinking much, she quickly grabbed the medicine box back and said to herself, "This is my private affair. It has nothing to do with you!"

"Private affairs..."

He chewed these two words in a low voice, and suddenly sneered: "You know yourself."

Amelia Wytte looks up.

The sneering radian on his lips became more and more obvious: "You really don't deserve to have my child."

"How can my child have a mother who has been in prison? Or a murderer who killed his uncle."

"I told you, Bill Clinton's death has nothing to do with me!" Amelia Wytte is still biting her teeth, and...