Synopsis
I transmigrated into a novel as the villain's evil stepmother, and the system told me I had to stay in character no matter what. So I looked down at the little five-year-old standing by my legs and did what the role required — took the milk right out of his hands and replaced it with bitter melon juice. After that, no more being fussy about food. Got a pet? You're cleaning up after it yourself. And when college applications came around, I went ahead and swapped his chosen major without telling him. Time passed, and the villain made something of…
