“Yes, I am well aware of Dexter’s attitude towards you. But let’s not forget that I helped you when your biological son abandoned you and you had nowhere to go. I prevented your son, who was abroad, from ending up on the streets,” Arnold said with a cold smirk. “Ms. Quorn, you should be grateful and help me, shouldn’t you?”
The sea breeze blew relentlessly on Xanthe, who smiled wryly. “Are you using me to threaten Dexter? He won’t come. You’ve made a mistake.”
As she spoke these words, there was a touch of despair that only a mother could express.
“Well, that’s not necessarily true. What if I end up killing you?” Arnold spoke casually, and before Xanthe could react, he waved his hand, signaling his men to step forward.
As a ruthless criminal, he showed no mercy. Xanthe was knocked to the ground. Being no longer young, even a slightly forceful blow could be fatal.
Meanwhile, Josie turned away, unwilling to witness any longer. Arnold played with his lighter before lighting a cigarette and spoke vaguely. “What time is it?”
No one responded for a while, and only then did Josie realize that the question was directed at her. She struggled to glance at the time. “Half past two.”
“Dexter’s boat will dock in ten minutes. Keep track of the time.”
This was undoubtedly torture. The sounds of fighting outside the car didn’t stop, nor did Xanthe’s agonizing cries of pain. Josie was restless, attempting to roll up the car window. Without even lifting his eyes, Arnold was aware and said, “Don’t close it.”
All Josie could do was listen. She felt a chill throughout her body. It would take Dexter more than ten minutes to arrive. Xanthe’s life could be in danger during that time. Moreover, there was a good chance that Dexter might not come.
Josie still remembered Xanthe’s indifference towards her son when he was a child. It had left a lasting trauma on him. As an innocent child, she would often ask, “Dex, do you miss your mom?”
A hint of vulnerability would flash in Dexter’s eyes, although he always said no. Josie knew deep down that he missed her, but there was nothing he could do.
Later, when they met again, his feelings for his mother had turned into hatred.
“If you think you can use Xanthe to your advantage, you’re mistaken,” Josie, enduring the noise outside, tried to reason with him. “Dexter would never give up his interests for her, let alone hand over Edward to you.”
Arnold flicked off the ash from his cigarette and scoffed, “I’ve said it before. I don’t want Edward. I only want him to return my belongings.”
His goal was clear, and it was a fair exchange.
“He will never come.”
Arnold remained silent. About ten minutes later, a black car slowly approached, appearing like a ray of light in the silent night. Arnold curled his lips and looked at Josie. “You still don’t understand him well enough.”
With that, he pushed open the car door and got out. Xanthe had been beaten within an inch of her life, her mouth bleeding profusely as she lay on the ground, looking half-dead.
The back door of the black car swung open, and a pair of elegant leather shoes were the first to touch the ground. The man, dressed in a black shirt, rolled up his sleeves as he walked towards Arnold with a solemn and dignified posture.
“Dex…” Xanthe tried to get up as if she had seen her savior. The darkness of the night concealed Dexter’s eyes and brows. He glanced at the person on the ground and slowly stopped. “Arnold, what are you doing?”
The two men stood at a distance, facing each other. Their aura grew more intense than the darkness of the night.
“Ms. Quorn took something that belongs to me and refuses to return it. I’m afraid I’ll have to trouble you with that.”
