Miss Josefina: Nobody's Princess

Chapter 87

As the sun dipped below the horizon, Josefina wrapped up her work for the day.

Alex completed several design drafts under Josefina's guidance, leaving him beaming with satisfaction. "Boss, let me take you out for dinner," Alex offered eagerly.

Josefina smiled gently. "Some other time, I've got something on tonight."

Alex nodded, unable to hide his excitement. "Alright."

Josefina had meant to take a bottle of medicine to Oliver. He needed to change his dressing again that evening. In her rush at noon, she had forgotten to give it to him.

Driving alone towards Oliver's office, she tried calling him, but his phone was switched off. She had just pulled up outside Oliver's building when she caught sight of him through the window, storming towards his car with a chilling indifference. His expression was grave, as if some calamity had struck.

At that moment, her phone buzzed with the tone of an incoming text message. An unfamiliar number had sent her a message. [Ms. Josefina, this is George. Do you have a moment? Please come to Oliver's house immediately. There's been a serious incident! Oliver's about to commit murder! Ms. Josefina, I beg you. Help Oliver. We can't let him become a murderer!]

Josefina's mind raced. What on earth had happened?

George didn't call but texted—was he afraid Oliver would find out?

Josefina replied instantly. [I'm on my way.]

George sent the address, but Josefina didn't even glance at it. She was tailing Oliver's car, driving onward.

The road was flanked by lush greenery, with vibrant flowers blooming in an array of colors. A gentle breeze carried the sweet scent of blossoms through the air.

After forty minutes, Josefina finally reached the grand entrance to Oliver's estate. The estate was vast, stretching as far as the eye could see—all of it belonging to Oliver.

Josefina messaged George. [I can't get in.]

George replied. [Ms. Josefina, please wait. I'll come out and get you.]

Josefina sat in the driver's seat, turned off the ignition, and was utterly baffled. What could have possibly happened to make Oliver so violent?

Meanwhile, Oliver exited his car and entered the villa. It was a half-hour walk from the main gate to the villa on foot.

George's eyes flicked around as he followed Oliver, then excused himself, "Sir, I need to use the restroom. I'll just go to the public one outside."

Oliver, preoccupied, simply grunted an acknowledgment.

George scampered off, found a hoverboard, and zoomed away to meet Josefina.

...

Oliver strode into the house, swapped his shoes for slippers, and made his way to the living room. Sitting there was a stern-looking middle-aged man—it was Oliver's father, Rowan.

Rowan was dressed in a slate-gray suit. His thick eyebrows loomed over his eyes, smoldering with rage, while his voice resonated with a bone-tingling chill. "Oliver, why didn't you answer my calls!"

Oliver sat down, his face calm. "My phone died."

Rowan scoffed, "You think you can play tricks on me?"

Oliver remained composed, "What do you want?"

"Oliver, get out of the company!"

Oliver crossed his right leg over his left, loosened his tie, and sprawled on the sofa with a lazy defiance. "Not happening!" Oliver retorted icily.

Rowan's voice rose in fury, "The company isn't yours alone! Hand it over to your brother!"

Oliver chuckled darkly, "My mother only had one child, me. I don't have a brother."

The anger in Rowan's eyes was like a dagger laced with venom, thrusting violently toward Oliver. "Oliver, if you don't hand over the company, I will take it back! Do you want to be the CEO? Then start your own company. You're not fit to enjoy the legacy of this family!"