Xiao Yihe finished speaking and directly hung up the phone.
Chang Jiao listened to the busy tone on the other end of the line, biting her lip tightly. Her legs gave out, and she slumped to the floor. Her almond-shaped eyes brimmed with resentment. A servant nearby, feigning surprise, stepped forward to help her up. "Miss Chang, you're still pregnant. Don't sit on the floor; it's cold down there."
"Pregnant, pregnant—he doesn't even want the baby anymore! And besides, it's all because of your terrible advice! If it hadn't been for you, how could I have done such a thing! It's all your fault!" Chang Jiao angrily threw her phone at the servant.
The servant caught the phone with a grunt of pain and looked at Chang Jiao's twisted expression with resentment in her heart, though her face remained innocent.
