Blind date turned proposal (Josie and Dexter)
Chapter 633

Chapter 633 Like a Dog

Josie returned to the Mason Garden, where Dexter had already arrived before her.

"Where is Mr. Russell?" Josie asked the maid, placing her bag down and removing her coat.

"He's in the study having a meeting with someone," Julie replied, and then she hung up Josie's coat in the closet.

Josie's eyebrows furrowed as she asked, "There's a guest? Who is it?"

"I heard Mr. Russell referred to him as Wyatt."

Wyatt was here. What was he doing here so late?

Josie nodded in understanding. "Please help me prepare three cups of chamomile tea and send it to my room once I'm done showering."

"Okay."

The study was filled with confidential documents related to the Russell Group. Dexter trusted Josie implicitly, so the documents were not kept in a safe.

Wyatt stood only a few steps away from the stack of files, but he could not see their contents.

Josie brought the tea to the study. As she was about to knock on the door, she saw Wyatt kneeling on the marble floor with a loud thud. His gaze was fixated on the calm, composed man across from him. "Dex, my father crossed the line foolishly, but he will change. Please give him another chance," Wyatt pleaded sincerely. "Please, for the sake of Grandpa, let's forget about what happened. After all, we're family. Dexter, please forgive us." He was sweating profusely, facing Dexter's inscrutable expression. There was no guarantee what Dexter would do.

Her heart raced, its thundering beats echoing in her ears. Although Wyatt feared Dexter, he had always carried himself with a dignified and confident air. It must have been a serious problem if he was willing to kneel in front of Dexter.

He sat stiffly in his chair, his jaw clenched, and his hands were white-knuckled as he gripped hold of a pen. "Wyatt," he said, his voice eerily calm, "I had the highest hopes for you out of everyone in the family. But you've disappointed me this time."

"He's my father, after all," Wyatt replied, his voice trailing off.

Dexter nodded, his eyes bulging in realization. "He's my biological uncle, but he showed me no mercy." The words hung in the air, heavy with meaning.

Beads of sweat dotted Wyatt's forehead as he moved towards Dexter on his knees, his hands grabbing Dexter's pants. "The Russell Group has already recovered from the crisis. It won't happen again. Dexter, my dad isn't capable of causing any more trouble to you," he said in a breathless voice.

Looming over Wyatt's hunched figure, Dexter used his shoes and firmly pressed against Wyatt's chin, lifting his face to meet Dexter's cold, hard stare. "You're making me wonder how involved you were," Dexter growled murderously through gritted teeth.

A cold shiver ran down Wyatt's spine, his whole body turning rigid from fear. He tried to shake his head, but he couldn't move a muscle.

"You conspired with our enemies to bring down the Russell Group. How do you expect me to forgive you for such an absurdity?" He lowered his voice to emphasize the seriousness of his

words.

Wyatt's hair stood on each end, his stomach churning with a nauseating mixture of anxiety and apprehension. "I never conspired with outside forces to harm the Russell Group," he finally managed to say, his voice cracking and tight.

A heavy silence hung in the air.

Dexter pursed his lips into a tight line-he knew Wyatt was still withholding secrets.

The memories of the hardships he had endured a few months ago were like a knife in the back. Dexter had made sure to keep track of everyone who was involved in the matter so that he could get revenge. He would not rest until they had all paid for what they had done to

him.

Now that Yanis was being blamed, Wyatt quickly stalked over to Dexter, eager to clear his

name.

"Dex, my

father was also deceived. Arnold played him like a puppet, making him think the Olsen family would be backing him up. If Arnold hadn't manipulated my father, he wouldn't have dared to move a muscle!"

His neck almost sprained from having to keep his head up, and saliva started to dribble down his chin as he spoke. He no longer looked like the charismatic and respectable top businessman he once was. He looked like a dog that had been thoroughly cowed.

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