As Nina headed upstairs, she saw Maya leaving the bedroom with something held between her hands. Her chubby cheeks glowed with joy.
Nina raised an eyebrow and asked Maya, “What made you so happy?”
Maya checked her surroundings before answering, “Nina, guess what I’m holding?”
Nina frowned. “Has the food got bad? Are you trying to let that witch eat them?”
Maya shook her head in denial. She gracefully opened her hands and showed the item to Nina. “This is a pouch – a smelly one. Don’t squeeze it, or else it will release a strong unpleasant stench.”
Nina was speechless as she looked at the item.
Who would have thought Maya could think of such a brilliant idea!
“Are you trying to making her smell really bad?” Nina asked for confirmation.
Maya blinked her watery eyes. “Since that witch is trying to have a baby with Daddy, we’ll make her fail miserably and have smelly farts instead!”
That’s actually a great idea! Such brilliance is on par with my own plan!
“What if the witch does not squeeze the smelly pouch, though?” Maya was slightly concerned with her own idea.
The girl then thought to herself and stated, “I’ll talk to Juan and ask him to think of an idea.”
When Juan caught wind of Maya’s idea, he gave her a big thumbs up.
Even someone as innocent as Maya can think of a plan like this. She must really hate that witch a lot!
As an encouragement for Maya, Juan patted his chest and assured, “I will think of a plan and make sure that the smelly pouch’s potential will yield to its finest!”
At that, Maya felt gratified with a sense of accomplishment. “Thank you, Juan.”
“You’re very welcome.”
“Juan, it will be yours and Kyle’s turn after us. Do you have any plans to find out where Mommy is?” Nina asked.
Juan and Kyle looked at each other and exchanged glances. The former then confidently said, “Just enjoy the show. We’ll make that witch regret impersonating our Mommy!”
Nina was intrigued about what Juan had in mind. How do they plan to deal with that horrible woman?
Sylphiette applied the products given by Nina and looked at herself in the mirror. She was in a joyous state upon knowing that her beauty was further amplified by the beauty products.
“Nicole, although the plastic surgery was designed for me to look similar to you, I am the more attractive one if we are to stand side-by-side in comparison.” Sylphiette exuded immense confidence.
The corner of her lips raised into a devilish curve. When Evan returns home, he will definitely like the way I look.
She headed towards the living room, wanting to finish up the drama she was watching. All of a sudden, however, she was overwhelmed by a wave of itchiness on her face.
“What’s going on?” Her heart started beating faster. Am I having an allergic reaction?
After a while, the itchiness intensified.
She felt uneasy and quickly raced towards her bedroom.
As she stood in front of the mirror, her eyes opened wide in horror.
How is this possible? Why are there rashes on my face?
Sylphiette immediately thought of the cosmetics given by Nina. Could the rashes be caused by the cosmetics?
“Nina…” she screamed the girl’s name loudly and stormed out of the room.
Her angry footsteps echoed through the hall as she approached Nina’s bedroom.
Sylphiette then knocked on the door loudly.
Nina slowly opened the door. The sight of Sylphiette’s red and swollen face ignited a feeling of jubilation within her.
The next second, Nina feigned her disbelieve and asked, “Mommy, what happened to your face?”
Sylphiette stared at Nina viciously. Her face was of paramount importance as it was her leverage to get close to Evan. Now, it had been ruined by Nina’s cosmetics, and it will inevitably delay her primary objective!
The brat is still pretending to be innocent?
Damn it!
“I used your cosmetics, and my face became like this. What rubbish did you give me?” she lambasted.
Nina’s proud face shone with glimpses of disdain.
The cosmetics given by Ms. Fiona are not trash! However, it’s the allergic substance I added that caused your rashes!
If Ms. Fiona hears what this witch just said, she will surely quarrel with her.
