âWhatâs the matter?â Dexterâs face was grim, and he didnât bother to look at Xanthe.
âThe thing is gone. Itâs more important than money, so I can only make her pay with her life.â Arnold flicked his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out.
Dexter understood what he meant. A faint smile appeared on his lips. âThatâs good. Sheâs caused me a lot of trouble over the years. Well done, Arnold. Take care of her for me. Make sure there are no traces left.â
Josie couldnât help but smile at this statement. It was typical of Dexter.
Arnold remained calm and revealed his trump card. âAdmit it, Dexter. If you didnât care, you wouldnât have personally shown up at this time.â
After saying that, he glanced behind Dexter. There were no bodyguards. Dexter had only brought a driver and a secretary.
Dexter didnât respond. âI just wanted to see how far you would go. For you, getting rid of someone is easier than having tea. I wanted to witness it myself.â
He stood still, his hair gently lifted by the sea breeze. There was no pity or concern in his eyes, only indifference.
This made Arnold furrow his brow. He glanced sideways. âRegardless, sheâs your mother. You are related. Can you really kill your own mother?â
Dexter raised both hands. âI didnât do anything.â
Upon seeing this, Xanthe shouted anxiously, âDex! You canât abandon me! Iâm your mother!â
She was sprawled awkwardly on the ground, stripped of her usual superiority.
Dexter finally glanced at her, his eyes filled with coldness. âWhen you left, I begged you not to go, just like what youâre doing today.â
As he silently gazed at her, Xanthe hesitated, recalling the past. She showed a hint of guilt. âI-I desperately wanted to leave the Russell family and didnât take you with me. Later, I wanted to come back for you, but many things happened.â
Her words sounded righteous but were contemptible.
âYou not only wanted to leave the Russell family, but you also wanted to escape from me. As long as I exist, youâll think of my father every day. You despise me, your own flesh and blood.â
Dexterâs voice was colder than the sea breeze. He paced in place, calmly stating, âNo, thatâs not it. You hate the son you had with someone else and spoiled him. But why isnât he here today?â
The crisp sound of shoes stepping on the ground, like a countdown to her life, made Xanthe tremble all over.
She suddenly pushed away the thug beside her and knelt on the ground, crawling toward Dexter. She grabbed his pant leg and pleaded, âDex, itâs my fault, all my fault. Give me a chance to make amends.
Save me, and Iâll give you whatever you want!â
The words were spoken quickly and urgently. Her voice was even lowered, as if she was afraid of being overheard.
She knew that Arnold would definitely kill her, as he had said.
Dexter looked down at her condescendingly.
Tired of this mother-son drama, Arnold asked, âEnough of this. Dexter, are you saving her or not?â
Dexter lifted his eyes indifferently. âWhat do you want?â
Finally, Arnold heard the question he wanted.
âThe batch of goods that was intercepted during the exit, I want it back intact.â
The sound of waves crashing against rocks echoed in Dexterâs ears. With little force, he kicked Xanthe away and turned to the side. âArnold, that batch of goods was intercepted by the police in another area.
Even if I have extraordinary abilities, I canât make them give it back.â
He sounded reasonable.