Chapter 487
A sense of certainty was growing within Cassie, her suspicions deepening with every passing moment.
Joseph's face was etched with a grim expression. "Foolish," he muttered, his voice laced with frustration. "To think she could escape, even from such a remote mountain area."
Walter, too, was visibly annoyed. "The bachelor who pursued her reported seeing a van pick up Olivia Brooks."
"Could Olivia Brooks have an accomplice?" Joseph mused aloud, his tone icy. "Investigate. Find that van."
"Understood." Walter hesitated before venturing a question. "Rosalind, you were adamant about locating Olivia Brooks last night. Did you discover something?"
Joseph, equally puzzled, turned his gaze to Cassie.
"I can't disclose it yet," she replied, looking away. She was certain they wouldn't believe her if she revealed her suspicion that Joyce Ray might be Olivia Brooks. Worse still, Joseph might even accuse her of resorting to such drastic measures to deal with Joyce.
"Tell me," Joseph insisted, his grip firm on her shoulder. "I don't appreciate being kept in the dark."
Cassie rolled her eyes in response. "And have you ever considered how your close relationship with Joyce Ray affects me?"
Joseph was left speechless.
He dreaded this conversation, this recurring argument.
"Finish your pasta before it gets cold," he advised, careful not to ask any more questions that might fan the flames of her anger.
Cassie snorted, refusing to let him ruin her day or her dignity.
Just as she took a bite, Miss Ginger finally lost her patience. "Joseph, where's the salt?"
"Right here, right here," Joseph rushed to her aid, eager to appease.
Walter watched from the sidelines, stunned. He never imagined that the once untouchable Joseph would be reduced to such a state.
Joseph had even changed his Whatsapp username to the cheesy "TrulyYours," causing everyone at the company to suspect his account had been hacked.
Men really shouldn't try so hard; it always backfired.
"By the way, Walter, didn’t you mention a supply contract for me to sign yesterday? Did you bring it?" Joseph asked abruptly.
Walter was taken aback. "Joseph, you signed that document yesterday, don't you remember?"
Joseph's brow furrowed, and as he tried to recall, a sudden headache struck him, draining the color from his face.
"Joseph, we should really head to the hospital. You’re due for your infusion this morning," Walter suggested, then turned to Cassie. "Rosalind, could you take Joseph, please? My car's in the shop, I had to take a cab here. Joseph needs his daily treatments, it's not something we can skip."
Cassie rolled her eyes internally. This all seemed too convenient.
But why was Joseph so ill all of a sudden?
"Let me finish my meal first," she replied, picking up her fork again.
Joseph shot Walter a covert look of approval; he had done well.
Fifteen minutes later, Cassie pulled out of the garage in a new Porsche.
Once Joseph got in, he turned to Walter and said, "Tomorrow, bring over that sports car I gave her."
Cassie immediately remembered—the sports car with the "X1314" license plate, a unique model nationwide that had made her quite happy when she received it.
"No need, I’m over it," she said coolly, then added, "Joseph, you can keep your habit of making confessions through numbers for someone else. I'd get queasy just getting into that car."
All those numbers, like 1314, 5920.
Just thinking about them made her want to gag.
Joseph's face went dark in an instant. "The fireworks at nine-twenty on Friday wasn’t my idea. It was Michael...”
"Yes, Rosalind, I can vouch for that," Walter chimed in earnestly.
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