"Besides, Lin Cohen and his people have already come looking for me," Yang Mo said coldly. "And yet, here I am—perfectly fine."
He scoffed at Joy Fang's so-called warning. Protection? If they truly wanted to protect him, why hadn't they done so from the beginning? Why had he been left to rot alone in that freezing room, starving to death in his past life?
To Yang Mo, leaving the Lin family was the best thing that ever happened to him.
"Lin Cohen came for you? You're not hurt, are you? That damn beast!" Joong exploded in rage, her voice trembling with fury. "Is Lin Cohen already so arrogant that he dares to lay a hand on you?!"
"This has nothing to do with Ms. Jo," Yang Mo replied, his tone sharp. "There's no reason I should report anything to you. I'm going to bed."
"Wait! M-Mommy still has something to say—"
Drip. Drip. Drip.
The call disconnected.
Joy Fang collapsed onto the sofa in helpless silence. Her heart ached. Her son had rejected her again.
"Mom… Shao won't come back," Lin Xiao whispered, her gaze falling on Joy Fang, whose eyes reflected utter despair. Her lips trembled as though she wanted to speak, but no sound emerged. She simply stared ahead—lifeless, defeated.
Watching her like this, Lin Xiao felt a tightening in her chest. She wanted to comfort her mother, but words failed her.
"It's come to this," Joy Fang finally muttered. "I'll go back to the Xo family first. Maybe Father can help salvage the situation."
"Are you going to tell Grandpa?" one of her daughters asked, stunned.
Joy Fang nodded solemnly. "I didn't want to involve him unless absolutely necessary. But right now, I don't know who else to turn to. We must keep this from Lin Cohen. Everything will wait until I return from the Xo family."
She cast a wary glance upstairs toward Lin Cohen's room. When she was sure he hadn't heard anything, she motioned for her daughters to return to their rooms.
But upstairs, Lin Cohen had his ear pressed firmly against the door.
His expression twisted into something monstrous.
He had heard enough.
"Send me away? Really?" he muttered. "Why won't you all just die already… especially you, Yang Mo. You should've died long ago."
Just then, his phone rang. The caller ID: Brother Black Tiger.
Lin Cohen grinned wickedly and answered at once.
"Black Tiger! That matter—did you take care of it? I changed my mind. Breaking Yang Mo's leg isn't enough. I want him dead. Name your price."
But no immediate answer came.
"Black Tiger? What's wrong with you? You mute or something?"
A weak voice finally replied, "Cohen… it's me… Quinn."
"Quinn?! Where's Black Tiger? Did he go mess around with women again?! I told him—business first!"
"N-No… it's not like that… my brothers and I… we're in the hospital. We… we won't be getting out for a while."
Lin Cohen froze.
"What?"
"We… tried to ambush Yang Mo during the day, at the haunted house," Quinn stammered. "We failed. Got knocked out cold. Woke up with head injuries… stomach trauma… the doctors say it'll be months before we're back on our feet. We're surviving on IV drips."
Lin Cohen's evil grin disappeared instantly.
"You what?! You're telling me three of you couldn't take down one guy?!"
Quinn swallowed hard. "We… tried. But Yang Mo was always in public. Either at home or school. There was never a clean shot. That haunted house was our best chance. We didn't expect… whatever happened in there."
"Useless," Lin Cohen spat, fury boiling in his voice. "You should've dragged him somewhere quiet and finished him off! Why'd you pull such a stunt in public?! Idiots! Worthless trash!"
His breath was ragged. All his plans were unraveling.
He had lost control of the situation—and now, he was dangerously close to losing everything.