Chapter Fifty-Five: The Darkness Before Dawn (3)

Zhao Xuer’s face alternated between purple and white, her anger barely contained as she exclaimed, “No matter what, you should still call me ‘Mom’.”

He replied coldly, “I, He Zheyu, have only one mother, and she’s already dead. What makes you think you’re my mother?”

Zhao Xuer wanted to say more, but was interrupted by Han Mo, who burst in, panting heavily, his words coming out in broken fragments: “Boss… something… happened…”

Seeing Han Mo so flustered—a state he had never witnessed before—He Zheyu instantly understood that something must have happened to Mo Qinghan. To avoid arousing Zhao Xuer’s suspicion, he deliberately made his tone impatient. “After all this time with me and you still panic so easily? What could possibly rattle you like this? Speak as we walk.” With that, he strode out the door.

Han Mo followed at once.

Once in the car, He Zheyu asked, “What happened to the girl?”

Han Mo’s anxiety was palpable as he replied, “First, someone maliciously edited Miss Mo’s photos, putting her in all sorts of revealing outfits and in the arms of various men. Now every media outlet is reporting it, and Miss Mo’s reputation is being dragged through the mud. Second, Mo—” Han Mo faltered, unable to continue for a moment.

A chill shot through He Zheyu’s heart as he barked, “Is the girl hurt?”

“Boss, Mo Qingyu is dead.”

Those five words left him bewildered. “How could that be? Last time Lin Mo said she had at least five or six more years. How could she be dead now? Han Mo, are you sure you’re not mistaken?”

Han Mo’s expression was difficult to describe as he replied, “She jumped from the hospital building herself.”

This left He Zheyu even more at a loss. He found himself repeating Han Mo’s words, “Jumped herself… jumped herself…” Suddenly, a flash of realization passed through his mind, and the truth dawned on him.

“Who went to see her?”

“Zhao Yiya.”

At the mention of those three words, He Zheyu connected the dots with He Xuanyi’s situation and suddenly understood. Everything had been a staged drama by the Zhao family and his own father; he had been utterly duped.

A cold, oppressive aura instantly filled the car, and his indifferent eyes now burned with fury. “Find out which media outlets reported it first—every single one. Shut them all down.”

“But the Zhao family—” Han Mo began, but was cut off by He Zheyu’s icy voice.

“If they belong to the Zhao family, take legal action. Make sure they never appear in the media industry again. And release to the public immediately that I am breaking off my engagement with Zhao Yiya.”

“Understood.”

Han Mo knew Mo Qinghan was He Zheyu’s last line in the sand. If anything happened to her, he would stop at nothing to exact an unimaginably harsh price.

Arriving at the hospital, He Zheyu rushed straight to the ward. He saw Mo Qinghan lying motionless on the bed, her clothes stained with blood. At the sight, cold sweat broke out across his forehead and his hands shook uncontrollably.

Standing to the side, Lin Mo explained, “She’s all right—the blood on her clothes is Mo Qingyu’s. But she’s devastated and showing signs of miscarriage. The child in her womb cannot be saved. She’s been unconscious this whole time and cannot sign for surgery. Since you’re here, sign the consent form. I’ll arrange the procedure immediately.”

With that, Lin Mo handed him the surgical consent. He Zheyu’s hand trembled as he took the pen—perhaps for the first time in his life, he truly didn’t want to write his own name. His signature in the space for family members came out crooked and unsteady: “He Zheyu.” At the same time, a single tear fell onto his arm, hot and scalding, branding his heart with pain.