Chapter 11 No One Gets to Bully Mommy!

Mo Bao turned his gaze away, his expression once again blank as he stared at the group in front of him.
“Got it. You can go now.”

“Uh… go? But—”

“Shall I call Daddy for you?” Mo Bao mimicked Huo Yin’s cold, indifferent tone, tossing out the line with a lazy, dismissive flair.

The moment the words left his mouth, the entire group shut up instantly. Then, without another word, they all turned and walked away—like a synchronized wave retreating from shore. One second they were there, the next, gone.

Mo Bao: ……

Wow. Even that little stiff had this kind of power?

Proud of himself, Mo Bao strutted into the presidential suite. He didn’t care about the breathtaking view or the luxury that surrounded him—he was on a mission. His mom.

“Mommy?”

“Who’s there?”

Thankfully, she answered right away. The sound of her voice lit up his face like sunshine breaking through clouds. With tiny legs pumping, he dashed toward the source.

“Mommy? Hey… what’s wrong?”

“Oh! Mo Mo! What are you doing here? How did you even find me? Did anyone see you? You’ve gotta leave—this place is dangerous!”

Wen Xuxu, crouched behind the sofa on the floor, knees pulled to her chest, scrambled up the instant she heard her son’s voice. In her panic, she forgot to wipe the tear still clinging to her cheek.

Mo Bao saw it. His usually charming little face darkened instantly.

“Who hurt you, Mommy? Was it that big bad guy?”

“No, no, Mo Mo, I’m fine! Really! How did you get here? Did you come to rescue me? Let’s go—right now!”

She shook her head frantically, wiping her cheeks with the back of her hand before grabbing his small hand, ready to bolt.

But Mo Bao wasn’t moving.

Not anymore.

That *bad guy* had dared to hurt his Mommy? No way. Not while he was around.

No one messed with the woman he loved—and got away with it.

Five years old, but fire in his eyes, Mo Bao swept the room with a fierce glance. Then, he marched over to the coffee table, snatched a pen, and held it tight.

“Mo Mo, what are you doing?” Wen Xuxu asked, worry creeping into her voice.

“Nothing,” he said, grinning. “Just leaving a message.”

With surprising precision, the kid scribbled a single line across a sheet of paper in flawless English:

**You’re dead.**

Wen Xuxu gasped. “Mo Mo—!!”

---

Meanwhile, Huo Sijue had gone to see another doctor.

He hadn’t slept properly in over a week. And last night—after learning that *that damn woman* was still alive—he hadn’t closed his eyes at all. The pain was unbearable. It felt like his soul was cracking under the weight.

But the doctor couldn’t help.

“Mr. Huo, I hate to say this, but your condition seems more psychological than physical. Even sedatives aren’t working anymore. The situation is critical. Have you considered seeing a psychiatrist?”

“A psychiatrist?”

Huo Sijue’s bloodshot eyes narrowed. His jaw clenched so hard it looked like it might snap. The mere suggestion made his whole body tense.

The doctor sighed. He knew this reaction well.

Psychological illness? Everyone avoided it. No one wanted to admit they were broken inside—especially when the wound came from something too private, too shameful to expose.

In the end, the doctor handed him a slightly heavier dose of sedatives.

Huo Sijue took them, turned to leave—then his phone rang.

“Sir! It’s an emergency—the former—uh, *that woman*—she escaped!”

“What? Escaped?”

“Yes! We found a note in the room. Here’s a photo.”

The assistant, Xiao Lin, trembled as he snapped a picture and sent it.

Huo Sijue stared at the screen. His temple throbbed. A vein pulsed violently beneath his skin.

“Damn it—she’s asking for death! Who did this?! Find out! What are you standing there for? Waiting for me to give you a medal?!”

“N-no, sir—we checked. All the cameras in the room were wiped. And when we questioned the staff… only the young master returned. No one else entered.”

“F***!”

His head exploded with noise. Blood roared in his ears. His veins felt like they’d burst.

And then—worse came.

A few minutes later, his assistant called again. This time, his voice was even more shaken.

“Sir… uh… you’ve just become the top headline today.”

“What?”

“Someone dug up the video from this morning—when we caught that woman in the hospital director’s office. They posted it online. Now everyone’s searching for you. They’re demanding justice… for the female doctor who got beaten up.”

“Searching”? That was a polite word.

What it really meant? *Human flesh.*

The CEO of a global empire—publicly hunted, exposed, dragged through the mud by strangers.

Huo Sijue’s skull split open with pain.

Then—his phone slipped from his fingers.

*Thud.*

It hit the ground.

And with a final breath, he collapsed forward—onto the floor.

“Mr. Huo! Mr. Huo!!”