Li Feng continued staring at the photo, unable to look away, at the umbrella tilted protectively toward her, at Zhou Yuxi's young face turned slightly upward toward Mu Yunchen, at the casual intimacy of the moment captured by someone who had no right to witness it.
Whoever did this knew things. Private things. Secret things. Things that should have been impossible to know unless you'd been watching closely, patiently, obsessively.
They knew about Zhou Yuxi.
They knew she mattered.
They knew exactly where to strike to cause maximum damage.
And the worst part, the part that made Li Feng's chest constrict with something like anguish, was that she didn't even know.
She was back in China, probably going about her day, fighting her battles, building her empire, loving Mu Yunchen with that fierce, possessive intensity that both frightened and impressed Li Feng.
She didn't know he was lying in a hospital bed, machines breathing for him.
She didn't know someone had tried to kill him.
