The rain seemed endless, and the air was filled with the sweet scent of aster. The couple walked down
the alley while sharing an umbrella, finding their way back home.
Josie hugged her hands at her front, feeling slightly cold without a jacket. She also seemed to have
grown even paler.
She stole a glance at Dexter. Noticing that his expression wasn’t overly cold, she asked somewhat
hesitantly, “Why didn’t you tell me when Grandpa fell ill, Dexter?”
The man’s knuckles turned white from the force of gripping the umbrella. Without turning to her, he
retorted, “Tell you to make you worry?”
“But…” She recalled having a row with him at that time. “You could have just told me. Then, I wouldn’t
have scolded you so severely.”
A cold snort escaped Dexter’s lips. “That isn’t necessary.” He looked at her. “Don’t you scold me
enough?”
Josie pursed her lips, tacitly agreeing with him.
After a brief silence where all she could hear was the sound of the rain hitting the stone bricks, she
suddenly heard Dexter asking, “Josie, do you love me or hate me more?”
This question caught Josie off guard, but she blurted, “Of course, it’s hate.”
Dexter’s brows instantly furrowed, and his voice involuntarily turned hard. “To what extent? You hate
me so much that you wish to kill me?”
Josie went along with the flow. “Yeah. In all my years, Paul had never hit me like that.”
At her words, a sense of guilt began to germinate deep within Dexter. He knew her current restraint
was solely because she was on his turf. Once she got out, she would return to her fierce and
aggressive self, truly wishing she could kill him and wouldn’t show him a shred of mercy.
“I acted impulsively that day,” he said with a frown, unsure of the appropriate tone to convey his
sincerity,
Josie glanced at him, fighting back a smile. It was clear that Dexter was not one to back down. From
the beginning, he had always been in control, and someone at the helm would never make a mistake.
Therefore, he was particularly awkward at that moment.
Josie shrugged. “It’s okay. A storm must be brewing out there now, with everyone. condemning her.
Getting slapped was well worth it.”
As soon as those words rang out, Dexter looked away, his expression inscrutable.
Josie knew that he was keeping his anger in check.
She stood still and enunciated, “This is precisely what I want-to see her fall from grace, losing all
standing and reputation.
He swung his gaze back at her, his gaze sharp as a drawn blade. “So, you refuse to listen to me, yes?”
“Do you still want to hit me?” Going on her tiptoes, Josie leaned forward. “I likewise think a slap was too
lenient for me. I don’t mind if you slap me again.”
He has already hit me, so there’s no difference whether he does it once or twice.
Unbeknownst to her, as she said that, her cheeks puffed slightly, and her eyes were brimmed with
grievance.
In truth, she still cared about that slap, devastated about him raising his hand against her for Heather.
Dexter held the umbrella with one hand, the tips of his fingers as cold as ice. His expression remained
unchanged, and he wasn’t angered. “Don’t be capricious.”
That was all he said.
Josie frowned, often irritated by his nonchalant demeanor.
“Dexter, I’ve been wondering about this. If it were Liana, would you have been that impulsive?” she
pressed.
The rain was pouring increasingly harder, making the ground slippery underfoot.
Dexter’s voice was somewhat hoarse. “To keep the Olsen family in line, I did use her and treated her
as a hostage. In this, I owe her.”
Josie’s gaze turned blank. She had known that all along, but hearing him say it out loud still made her
feel discomfited.
She took a deep breath. “So, you wouldn’t have if it were her.”
But when it’s me, it’s a different story altogether.
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