A terrifying calm settled over Mo Yuzhen, the kind that existed only before a violent storm. "Turn the car back," he said. His voice was low, controlled to the point of sounding unnatural.
Wen Hao stiffened and glanced into the rearview mirror. The sight made his scalp tingle. Mo Yuzhen's face was dark, his eyes filled with a chilling fury that made it impossible to meet his gaze.
"Boss?" Wen Hao ventured.
"NOW!" Mo Yuzhen snapped.
"Yes, Boss."
Wen Hao immediately turned the steering wheel, executing a sharp U-turn toward the hospital.
In the backseat, Mo Yuzhen leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees, his head lowered. The city lights slid across the tinted windows, casting shifting shadows across his face.
How dare she?
How dare An Yuwei harm Tang Xiyu?
How dare she manipulate him, lie to him, and still cry pitifully in his arms, using his sympathy, his power, his resources?
