Dexter glanced to the side and noticed Josie walking towards the road to hail a taxi. He signaled to Moses, who nodded in understanding. Holding the car keys, he followed Josie. “Ms. Jo, let me give you a ride.”
Josie didn’t look back. “No need, I can manage on my own.”
“It’s not about whether you can manage. With Arnold gone, his people will surely still be watching you. You can’t let your guard down,” Moses explained.
Josie finally stopped, her mind still haunted by the events of the previous night. She couldn’t risk it any further. After a moment of hesitation, she provided an address.
Moses nodded and went to drive the car. In Josie’s peripheral vision, a black car passed by, with Dexter inside. He seemed to be heading to the Olsen family to apologize.
At the Olsen Residence, the scene was chaotic. Broken pieces of porcelain littered the floor. When Dexter arrived, he took off his coat and handed it to the servant. Heather, who was curled up on the sofa, immediately stood up upon seeing him. “Dex!”
Her face was filled with anxiety and fear as she hugged Dexter’s arm. “Arnold is in trouble. Apparently, he went missing after setting off an explosion by the sea. Father is very angry…”
She observed Dexter’s expression while speaking. “Where were you… your hand!”
She covered her mouth. “What happened to your hand?”
Dexter calmly retracted his hand. “It’s just a minor skin injury, nothing serious.”
He walked straight ahead, reaching the study where Laura was just coming out. She glanced at Dexter and Heather, looking puzzled. “The news about Arnold is known within the circle, and it has affected the Olsen family to some extent. Father’s anger hasn’t subsided. He doesn’t want to meet anyone.”
Dexter approached and tapped the door three times with his knuckles. “Mr. Olsen, it’s me.”
There was no sound from inside, and Heather grew anxious. After a moment, the weary voice of Mark came through. “Come in.”
Dexter then entered the study. In the spacious study, Mark sat at the main seat, gazing at the desolate autumn scenery outside the windows. His face showed signs of fatigue.
Dexter stood still, hands behind his back. “Mr. Olsen.”
Mark slowly raised his eyes, scrutinizing him. Without warning, he lifted his cane and threw it forcefully, hitting the young man’s kneecap. The sound of the impact was sharp and painful to hear. Dexter didn’t even flinch. He endured it.
“If hitting me can relieve your anger, feel free to do so.”
His distinct facial features were devoid of expression. It was more indifferent than arrogant. Mark snorted. “Pick it up.”
Bending down, Dexter picked up the cane and handed it to Mark. As Mark took it, his large hand pressed on Dexter’s bandaged hand, exerting force.
Dexter frowned slightly but remained still. “Arnold’s plan was meticulous. The goods from last night could have smoothly left the country. Why did the police from another jurisdiction discover it?”
Mark asked this while closely observing Dexter’s expression.
“If he got caught, it means the plan wasn’t meticulous enough.”
“Was it not meticulous enough, or is someone playing tricks?” Mark increased the pressure, reopening the wounds in Dexter’s palm one by one. “Why were you at the seaside last night?”
“Arnold threatened me with my mother and forced me to solve the problem for him.”
“And then?”
“Unexpectedly, the police in Wavery had already targeted him.”
Mark closed his eyes for a moment. “Last night, you were supposed to be in international waters. Why did you immediately go when Arnold asked you to?”
He probably had a rough idea of the cause of the situation and was merely seeking an explanation.
