Chapter Sixty-Five: The Darkness Before Dawn 12

A contemptuous chuckle slipped from Zhao Yiya’s lips, its sound pricking Mo Qinghan’s eardrums. After pacing back and forth a few steps, Zhao Yiya stopped and said, “You give me too much credit. All I did was tell him what he deserved to know. At best, I gave things a little nudge. As for how he chose to die, that was entirely his choice. I never even offered advice.”

Listening to Zhao Yiya speak so lightly about Mo Qingyu’s death, Mo Qinghan felt as though a living, breathing life meant nothing more than an ant in Zhao Yiya’s eyes. Her pale face, tinged with only a hint of color, was streaked with two unbroken lines of tears. Her delicate lips, faintly pink, had nearly been bitten through by her own teeth.

“A woman with a heart as venomous as yours, it’s only natural you’d be abandoned by your man. Before all this came to light, I still felt a twinge of guilt for you. But now, you’ve taught me the true meaning of ‘those who are pitiful must have something detestable about them.’” Mo Qinghan’s tone was laced with unmistakable provocation.

At these words, Zhao Yiya’s face turned ashen, like an overripe eggplant. She strode darkly toward the balcony. Before Mo Qinghan could react, Zhao Yiya slapped her hard across the face. Mo Qinghan tried to speak, but before she could get a word out, another slap landed on her other cheek. Still weakened from her recent ordeal, the force of both blows sent her sprawling to the floor, blood trickling from the corners of her mouth. Mo Qinghan sat slumped, supporting herself with her hands, her long hair in disarray. Seeing Zhao Yiya’s madness, she let out a few mocking laughs and said, “He Zheyu said that once he’s taken care of Qingyu’s affairs, he’ll take me abroad, never to return. In the end, you, Zhao Yiya, will be cast aside—a discarded woman, thrown away like a worn-out shoe.”

She paused for a few seconds, then shook her head and continued, “No... no, to He Zheyu, you don’t even amount to a worn-out shoe.”

At that moment, Zhao Yiya’s rage boiled over, like a kettle left on the stove, threatening to spill over. Just as she was about to lose control and lash out, her mind intervened, pulling back the foot she’d nearly driven into Mo Qinghan’s abdomen.

Seeing Zhao Yiya withdraw her foot, Mo Qinghan said, “What’s this? Even you have something you’re afraid of?”

Zhao Yiya slowly crouched down, clamping Mo Qinghan’s mouth with the crook of her thumb and forefinger, squeezing so hard that Mo Qinghan’s small face became distorted. Coldly, she said, “Do you really think He Zheyu would give up the He family for you? Don’t you know that half of the He family’s empire was left to him by his mother? Do you imagine he’d hand over his mother’s life’s work to the person he hates most? Mo Qinghan, even I find your naïveté laughable.”

Mouth clamped tight, Mo Qinghan struggled to speak, but managed to force out her words with conviction: “He said if he truly loved me, none of that would matter.”

Zhao Yiya shot a glance at Mo Qinghan’s belly and said, “If it really didn’t matter, then why did he secretly have the baby inside you taken away?”

At the word “baby,” Mo Qinghan’s pupils dilated in shock, her gaze suddenly so unnerving that Zhao Yiya felt a chill run down her spine. Instantly, she let go and straightened up.

Mo Qinghan remained slumped on the floor, one hand clutching her stomach, her eyes vacant as she muttered to herself, “Didn’t he say if there was a child, we’d keep it? Why did he hide it from me and take the baby away? Why…”