It could be said that Fu Jingrong was ruthless—mercilessly ruthless.
He didn't give Fu Ling even a breath of time to collect himself. No soft words. No gentle explanations. Just cold, brutal truth—delivered all at once.
To anyone else, it might have seemed heartless, even cruel. But to Fu Jingrong, this was the only way.
He knew exactly how Fu Lianhua operated. The woman never went down without a fight. And when she couldn't reach him directly, she would always find another way. Using her own son as a weapon was not beneath her—it was her favorite move.
So the moment Fu Ling stepped foot into the company that he had so long avoided, Fu Jingrong already knew.
He knew who was behind it.
He knew what words had been whispered, what tears had been shed, and what kind of false picture Fu Lianhua had painted to send her son charging into battle like a blindfolded soldier.
