Chapter 367 Killer Annoyance
Facing Dashiell's aggressive questioning, Juniper stepped in front of Catherine, her stance sharp and unyielding.
"What exactly are you implying? The Galactic Aurora Collective sanctioned you — what does that have to do with Catherine? Don't think for a second that just because she's kind and gentle, she'll be intimidated by you."
In Juniper's mind, Dashiell was clearly trying to get to Catherine. Everyone knew Catherine was the Windsor family's most cherished member. If he could sway her, he could leverage that soft spot to gain favor — and benefits — from the Windsors.
Dashiell forced a strained smile onto his face. "I only want to know why the Galactic Aurora Collective is targeting my company…"
"Dashiell." Juniper's voice was ice-cold. Her gaze flicked briefly toward Owen, standing not far away. "Do you really want to start a fight with us in front of Grandfather?"
Owen had no idea about the things Dashiell had done. Juniper worried the old man's heart couldn't take the shock. Tiberius had already done enough damage; there was no need to pile more on and risk hurting Owen further. So for now, they kept it from him.
"Juniper, you don't understand!" Dashiell's voice rose. "Everything I've done has been for the good of the family! Following Mr. Morales is the only way to secure a bright future — I'm doing this for the Harrison family!"
"You're doing it for yourself," Juniper shot back. "Save your noble-sounding excuses. I'm not an idiot."
The sharp edge in her eyes made Dashiell suddenly remember — Juniper had been raised by the Windsor family. And the Windsors… well, even the least of them was exceptional. Juniper had been the youngest, with countless people teaching her, shaping her. No wonder she was razor-sharp now.
Everyone could see through Dashiell's schemes.
His expression twisted with frustration. "You'll regret this. One day you'll realize that standing beside Mr. Morales is the wisest choice you could make…"
Juniper's lips curled in a cold smirk. "Wisest? Like an old man climbing a mountain to pick a fight with monkeys?"
The memory of the cemetery incident darkened Dashiell's face. They had gone to find the staff responsible for the monkey troop, ready to lodge a complaint.
But the staff told them these monkeys were a state-protected species, the mountain was their habitat — and Franklin's group had trespassed. The staff even suggested a veterinary check for the monkeys' health.
To the monkeys, they said, human blood was the real virus.
The disdain from the staff had been palpable. Franklin's group still bore scratches and bruises, but no one cared about their injuries — only the monkeys' well-being. In the end, the complaint went nowhere, and they had to pay compensation before leaving.
Dashiell knew there was no reasoning with Juniper. He tried to address Catherine instead, but Juniper never gave him the chance.
Franklin's voice cut in, low and cold, "Catherine, you'd better not regret this."
Catherine only shrugged, a flicker of disdain crossing her face.
From the second-floor balcony, a member of the Galactic Aurora Collective flipped Franklin off. Ethan, a killer with eyes like a hawk, spotted it instantly and told Franklin — sending him into a silent rage.
Catherine's gaze slid to Dashiell, calm and cutting. "Your master's gone. Why is the dog still here?"
Dashiell's face went dark. His fists clenched, then loosened. Without another word, he turned and left with Franklin.
Samuel frowned, concern in his voice. "What is Franklin trying to pull? Picking fights with the younger generation… he's really aging backward."
Catherine's eyes followed Franklin's retreating figure. A small, knowing smile tugged at her lips. She knew exactly what he wanted — to make a splash at this year's science summit, to find the right people to restart the Galactic Aurora Collective project.
Across the room, Lyra stood in a cocktail dress, wine glass in hand, beside her parents. Both were scientists, and it had taken no small amount of pleading for Lyra to convince them to bring her. They still didn't know she'd been expelled.
Lyra's father spotted Samuel from afar, surrounded by admirers. He hurried over, glass in hand. "Mr. Martinez, it's been too long! You're as distinguished as ever."
"And you are…?"
"We met once at an award ceremony, Mr. Martinez."
Samuel had attended too many ceremonies to recall every face. His assistant, Anna, leaned in and murmured, "Last year's literary awards. He didn't win. You said his writing was pretentious. Name's Cruz Cole."
Recognition flickered in Samuel's eyes. He never forgot a piece he'd critiqued. "Ah, you. Your prose style is… peculiar. Many passages felt like a fog I couldn't see through. Have you fixed that?"
Cruz Cole flushed at the public jab. Lyra, standing behind him, hadn't yet seen who Samuel was and bristled instantly. "What do you know? My father's prose is a work of art — flawless!"
The attention from nearby guests made Lyra's pulse quicken. It had been far too long since she'd felt this important. Her voice grew bolder. "My father's prose rivals Mr. Martinez's. I've read plenty of award-winning work from lesser writers — why not his?"
The room fell into an awkward silence.
Lyra pressed on. "In terms of style, structure, and vision, my father's work is easily on par with Mr. Martinez's…"
Cruz's prose had its own display in the summit's literary section — a five-foot-high poster showcasing the opening lines.
Samuel glanced over, then turned to Anna. "Remind me, what did I say about Cruz's work last time?"
Anna bowed slightly. "You said it was a patchwork — half yours, half other people's — basically plagiarism. You also said he'd make a better tailor than a writer."
Lyra's cheeks flushed hot. "What's that supposed to mean? Are you accusing my father of plagiarism? On what grounds?"
Catherine, standing beside Samuel, let out a soft laugh. "Grandfather, if this gentleman didn't copy from you, we can check and find out."
"True," Samuel said. "He took several of my older pieces and stitched them together. And some of it came from letters I wrote to your grandmother."
Those letters had never been made public, so Samuel had only mentioned it in passing before, not thinking much of it.
Catherine made a subtle gesture toward Mercury.
Moments later, several of Samuel's unpublished works were laid out in plain view.
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