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Hey, You are My Child's Mother

Hey, You are My Child's Mother



  Lily Smith, a third-class comic painter, little imagined that someday she would embrace a life outclassing those characterized in her scripts. For example, the gunman ahead questioning where his kid was. Although Owen Gordon was fine featured, handsome and rich, she did not met him anyway, letting alone her ridiculous giving a birth to a kid for him three years earlier.
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The Imperial Castle stands in the forest, which was on the edge of the city.


It was so hot, it was too hot to breathe.

On a British bed, the young girl was asleep, her delicate body covered with a gorgeous white gauze, and the dense sweat slowly dripping down her delicate face as she fell on her Thin lips.

The sweat on her arm was already wet with her clothes, creating an endless pose.

"Mmm, it's hot ..."

Lily Smith snorted and woke up from deep sleep.

At the entrance was a luxurious but unfamiliar room. The 14th—century Western oil paintings on the wall swayed in her unclear sight.

What place?

She looked around unconsciously.

On the corner sofa, a man was sitting there with a long and slender body, his long white fingers shaking his red wine glass gracefully.

"Who are you? Why is it so hot here? Can you turn off the air conditioner?"

As soon as she heard her, Lily Smith realized that her voice was weak as if she had suffered a serious illness.

Too hot.

"Women, if you don't wake up again, I'll adjust this place to 88 degrees and steam you!"

A male voice rang out in the hot room.



What steaming?

Lily's consciousness was a little loose, and her sweat fell on her eyes, fascinating her gaze.

There was a deep sound of footsteps.

She lifted her hands and wiped her eyes to reveal the delicate collarbone, the sweat on her, and when she looked forward, she looked at her like an eagle.

The man stood in front of her bed. His legs were straight and long. His white shirt was lined with his tall and straight body, and his collar was loosened up and up. It was a handsome and suffocating face. The facial features, the deep eyebrows of the sword, and the thin lips under the straight nose slightly opened, sexy.

The room was extremely hot, but the man's face was not sweaty and was elegant and calm.

It was like a man who had walked out of a pictorial. He was very young, no more than 29 years old.

Uh, why are you familiar?

Where have you seen ...

Because of her long—term professional habits, Lily was an easy—going person. Thinking about this, she stared at the man and started to stun, but soon, she woke up because the man took out a silver pistol.

And the gun was aimed at her.

Huh? What was this development?

"What are you doing? Who are you? What do you want to do?"

Lily sitting on the bed was shocked to move backward, but the man stepped closer to her, and the cold muzzle pressed against her crimson face.

She had a pure face, her facial features were exquisite but unassuming, non—aggressive, and very beautiful.

His gun slowly fell to her lips, pointed chin, and then the delicate collarbone.

Lily Smith tensed up unconsciously, her white gauze clothes almost falling off, her hot sweat instantly turning into a cold sweat.

"Women, where is the child you gave me?"

Owen stood in front of her, his voice cold and his gaze swept across her body.


Lily was stunned.

"Three years ago, you carried my child. Where is the child now?"

Owen asked word by word, his white hand twitching, and her gun circled above her collarbone with a thin coat.


Lily was at a loss. It took a long time for her to calm down. "I said ... Are you wrong? I don't know you. I haven't had a child ..."