Chapter 153
Gemma returned and instantly sensed something off between her husband and daughter. She knew they must have discussed something unpleasant.
She didn't ask, just called them to head home.
Who knew that after turning down a small lane, they'd spot a car parked by the roadside.
Cedric leaned against the car, apparently on a call. After hanging up, he looked up and saw them.
"What are you doing here? I thought you were walking home?" He seemed genuinely surprised.
Preston said, "We just happened to walk this way. We're getting ready to head back now."
Cedric smoothly offered, "How about I give you a ride home?"
He turned and opened the car door.
Having come this far, Preston couldn’t continue to decline, even if he wished to. He paused for a moment before turning his gaze toward Josephine.
Josephine shrugged. "Don't look at me. I'll go with whatever you decide."
Anything she said now would be inappropriate. If she said not to get in, she'd offend her boss. But if she said to get in, her father would definitely read too much into it.
Sure enough, hearing this, Preston felt reassured. "Then we'll trouble Mr. Getty."
Cedric smiled slightly. "No trouble at all."
As soon as the car stopped at the base of their building, Josephine was the first to open the door. "Dad, Mom, I’ll head upstairs and unlock the door."
She stepped into the building entrance, and with her back against the chilly security door, she could hear Cedric’s warm voice echoing from below.With Preston’s assistance, Gemma stepped out of the car. Cedric trailed behind, holding a gift box, his fingers absentmindedly tracing the ribbon.
Preston's footsteps paused at the building entrance. He looked up at the lit window. "Mr. Getty, go back. We can manage this short distance."
"Mr. Kennedy." Cedric handed over the gift box with a perfectly calibrated smile. "This contains a replica of a master chess player's manuscript. I had a friend track it down from abroad. You mentioned earlier that back in your school team days, you won the championship using this particular opening strategy."
Preston’s hand paused in mid-air. He had only brought it up during dinner as a casual remark, never expecting Cedric to take it seriously.
The gold lettering on the box shimmered beneath the streetlight, like a delicate needle teasing his tense nerves. Honestly, he genuinely liked it.
"Preston," Gemma took the gift box. "Cedric brought this especially. Come up for a bit. I've made coffee."
Preston didn't respond, he turned and headed upstairs.
Cedric followed, his leather shoes clicking softly on the steps.
Josephine watched nervously, terrified that her father might suddenly explode and throw Cedric out—he was her boss, after all.
When opening the door, Josephine deliberately slowed down, wanting her father to enter first and separate the two men.
But Cedric, as if he'd calculated it, reached out to catch the closing door, his fingertips brushing her hand. That warmth burned so much that she jerked her hand away—the door accidentally hit his wrist.
Cedric made a soft sound.
"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to." Josephine instinctively checked his wrist.
His wrist bone was slender, with just a slight red mark near the back of his hand.
Like a crack appearing on perfect porcelain.
Josephine pressed her lips together. "Sorry..."
Cedric didn't seem bothered, waving it off. "Aren't you going to find me a pair of slippers?"
He was still standing at the door in his leather shoes, blocking Preston and Gemma's way.
Josephine bent to the shoe cabinet and pulled out two pairs of men's slippers—one was her father's cloth shoes he hadn't worn in ages, the other was a newly bought pair of gray cotton slippers.
After two seconds of hesitation, she pushed the cloth shoes toward her father's side.
Cedric bent down to pick up the cloth shoes, as yellow ginkgo leaves drifted from the tips to the ground. "These seem like they’ll fit."
When he put them on, the creases at the heel fit his foot perfectly—just the right size.
These were shoes Josephine had bought for her father last year.
Preston always complained the toe box was too narrow and they were too big. After wearing them twice, he'd thrown them to the bottom of the shoe cabinet.
Preston's movement as he removed his shoes paused. His gaze swept over the cloth shoes on Cedric's feet before he finally let out a heavy snort and turned toward the living room.
The living room clock had just struck eight. Gemma went to make coffee. Josephine wanted to help but was stopped by her father. "Jojo, get the chess board from the study."
Her heart sank. Just as she was about to make an excuse, she saw her father had already sat on the sofa. "It's been so long since I played chess. My hands are itching."
Cedric stepped forward. "Shall I play a couple games with you?"
Preston snorted coldly, his gaze sizing up Cedric as his knuckles rapped the coffee table. "Is Mr. Getty so confident in himself that he's certain he'll win?"
Cedric had just accepted the cup Gemma handed him. At those words, when he set it down, the base clinked against the table. "I wouldn't dare. It's just that I also enjoy chess. It's rare to meet a master like yourself—I was hoping you might offer some guidance."
The saying goes, you can't hit someone who's smiling. With such a humble response, Preston couldn't find fault. So he became even more determined to crush him on the chess board.
Let this kid know when to back off!
Did he think Preston couldn't see through him? This kid was clearly trying to court his daughter!
When Josephine emerged carrying the chess board, she caught her father rummaging through a box and pulling out a small pouch containing an old set of chess pieces.
"Your grandfather gave these to me on my wedding day." Preston’s fingers brushed over the items. "I used them to win the school team championship."
Preston's eyes held nostalgia—he clearly treasured those memories.
Josephine sidled up to Cedric, whispering, "I'd advise you not to continue. My dad is really good at chess. He's never lost in all these years."
Cedric smiled faintly. "Don't worry."
He pulled over a chair and gestured for Josephine to sit and watch.
As Josephine was about to take a seat, she caught her father’s deliberate cough. She glanced down at the chair.
She understood.
She grabbed the chair and scooted it toward her father's side.
Sure enough, her father's throat was fine now.
Cedric moved first, placing his opening piece on the sidelines.
Preston chuckled coldly. "Young people shouldn’t be focused solely on defense. When the moment calls for it, you must strike."
His fingertip paused on the board, but his words carried deeper meaning. "Like living life—if you only think about playing it safe, sooner or later people will take advantage of you. And when they do, you have to fight back."
Josephine sat close by, peeling an orange. The sharp, bitter aroma of the peel made her blink, and her mouth twitched unconsciously at her father’s words.
That was just like her father—once at the chess board, even his words became aggressive.
Cedric navigated Preston's offensive with ease, each move seeming calculated. Appearing to retreat, he was actually quietly weaving a net.
"Mr. Getty's chess style..." Preston placed a piece, his voice suddenly turning cold. "Not like your brother's at all."
He'd played chess with Gideon before.
That guy's chess strategy was reckless and charging, extremely aggressive, without a hint of subtlety—possessing a stubborn, ruthless determination to achieve his goal no matter what.
Preston, who'd spent years with art and chess, had a gentler temperament. He particularly disliked Gideon's approach.
"Everyone's chess style is different." Cedric had never wanted to be like Gideon. The fingers holding his piece didn't move, as if contemplating his next move.
Josephine finished peeling the orange and placed it in her father's hand. Having been around him for years, she'd developed some understanding of chess herself.
This game was brilliant and perilous.
The two men had their own styles, yet somehow collided, evenly matched.
Right now it seemed like a stalemate.
But Cedric's next move placed his piece on the breaking point. "Mr. Kennedy, chess style reflects character. Gideon is Gideon, I am me. Like this move—it looks risky but is actually stable."
Preston's breathing grew noticeably heavier. His pieces were about to die—seemingly with nowhere left to go.
Just as Cedric's piece was about to land, he suddenly retreated a step, giving Preston breathing room.
"You shouldn't have let me off." Preston's voice was somewhat muffled.
"Winning or losing isn't important." Cedric gathered the pieces back into their container. "What matters is playing an enjoyable game."
After the first game, the two fully unleashed their chess addiction. Josephine watched for a while before losing interest, because what followed had quicly turned into a showdown between Cedric and Preston.
An all-out war on the chess board.