Josie had guessed it. Otherwise, her departure from the art gallery that day wouldn’t have been so
smooth. Dexter’s people didn’t dare to stop her.
“Is she dead?” She was concerned about this.
For a moment, Morgan was taken aback. He asked, “What?” Then he responded, “Pfft. No. If she really
wanted to die, she would have done it long ago.”
The car was heading toward her place. Sensing Josie’s silence, Morgan, who rarely spoke for Dexter,
said, “If I were him, I probably wouldn’t have a better solution either. The Olsen family is powerful. It’s
impossible not to consider the pros and cons.”
That’s right. I’m basically nothing compared to the pros and cons. Josie did not express an opinion.
Upon returning home, Morgan walked in with a look of disdain. “This place is too small. I’ll have
someone get you a new one.”
Josie stepped over the couch and poured him a glass of water. “How much longer can you stay in
Wavery? Where will I live when you go back?”
Morgan stared at her. “Come back to Rivodia with me.”
Josie showed no interest and propped up her head. “I’m quite comfortable living here. Though it’s
small, it has everything I need, and it gives me a sense of security.”
That was a demeanor only a girl who had tasted hardship could possess. Morgan, having seen many
daughters of elite families, found her exceptionally unique.
But he looked left and right, still unsatisfied. He sat down reluctantly, his gaze filled with affection as he
looked at her.
Fatigue and weariness filled Josie’s eyes. She looked at him and suddenly said, “Morgan, if the person
you met were the old me, perhaps we wouldn’t have ended up parting ways.”
Morgan slightly furrowed his brows, asking, “Why?”
Josie curved her lips into a smile.
Because at that time, she wouldn’t have felt inferior, as they were considered a good match in terms of
social status. Naturally, he wouldn’t have looked down on her family background.
She recalled something. “But it’s not necessarily so either. It’s nothing.”
If that were the case, she wouldn’t have met Morgan. The one who would captivate her would
undoubtedly be Dexter.
Two days passed, and the accusations of plagiarism against Heather vanished without a trace. It
seemed as if everyone had an unspoken agreement not to mention it anymore. It was clear that a
powerful force had suppressed public opinion for the sake of Heather’s mental health.
She had injured her bone, so layers of gauze were wrapped around her wrist. She couldn’t sleep
peacefully. only finding comfort when she saw Dexter staying by her side.
“Dex, do you also despise me?” Heather asked, tears streaming down her face. “Do you think I’ve
disgraced you all by resorting to any means necessary?”
Dexter sat in his chair, legs crossed, his tone indifferent. “Leanne, the worst thing a girl can do is to be
self- depreciating.”
As those words were spoken, Heather’s tears flowed even more, her voice choked with emotion. “I
know, but I’m at a loss. I want to make my parents happy, and I want to be worthy of being your
fiancée. I’m sorry…”
After a restless night, Dexter’s voice sounded somewhat weary. “I’ve taken care of the issue with the
painting for you. From now on, no one will dare to speak out of turn in your presence.”
Heather was taken aback for a moment, then quickly asked, “What about Josie?”
He lifted his sharp gaze.
“Can you handle her?”
Dexter’s eyes remained calm and undisturbed. “Leanne, this is not something you need to worry
about.”
Heather covered her face, continuing to cry. “I know it’s her, and I know you’re willing to indulge her, but
what about me, Dex?”
The two were close, yet Dexter sat in place, not comforting her. “You are different, so you shouldn’t
compare.”
After a long while, Heather took a deep breath and withdrew her hand, her face streaked with tears.
“Dex, don’t worry, I know my place. But I am your fiancée. She should have some boundaries, right?”
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