“What’s the matter?” Dexter’s face was grim, and he didn’t bother to look at Xanthe.
“The thing is gone. It’s more important than money, so I can only make her pay with her life.” Arnold
flicked his cigarette to the ground and stamped it out.
Dexter understood what he meant. A faint smile appeared on his lips. “That’s good. She’s 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.”
Josie couldn’t help but smile at this statement. It was typical of Dexter.
Arnold remained calm and revealed his trump card. “Admit it, Dexter. If you didn’t care, you wouldn’t
have personally shown up at this time.”
After saying that, he glanced behind Dexter. There were no bodyguards. Dexter had only brought a
driver and a secretary.
Dexter didn’t respond. “I 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.”
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. “Regardless, she’s your mother. You are
related. Can you really kill your own mother?”
Dexter raised both hands. “I didn’t do anything.”
Upon seeing this, Xanthe shouted anxiously, “Dex! You can’t abandon me! I’m your mother!”
She was sprawled awkwardly on the ground, stripped of her usual superiority.
Dexter finally glanced at her, his eyes filled with coldness. “When you left, I begged you not to go, just
like what you’re doing today.”
As he silently gazed at her, Xanthe hesitated, recalling the past. She showed a hint of guilt. “I-I
desperately wanted to leave the Russell family and didn’t take you with me. Later, I wanted to come
back for you, but many things happened.”
Her words sounded righteous but were contemptible.
“You not only wanted to leave the Russell family, but you also wanted to escape from me. As long as I
exist, you’ll think of my father every day. You despise me, your own flesh and blood.”
Dexter’s voice was colder than the sea breeze. He paced in place, calmly stating, “No, that’s not it. You
hate the son you had with someone else and spoiled him. But why isn’t he here today?”
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, “Dex, it’s my fault, all my fault. Give me a chance to make amends.
Save me, and I’ll give you whatever you want!”
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, “Enough of this. Dexter, are you saving her or not?”
Dexter lifted his eyes indifferently. “What do you want?”
Finally, Arnold heard the question he wanted.
“The batch of goods that was intercepted during the exit, I want it back intact.”
The sound of waves crashing against rocks echoed in Dexter’s ears. With little force, he kicked Xanthe
away and turned to the side. “Arnold, that batch of goods was intercepted by the police in another area.
Even if I have extraordinary abilities, I can’t make them give it back.”
He sounded reasonable.
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