Chapter 168
Preston remained silent for a long time, lowering his gaze to his right hand resting on his knee. That hand had been useless for many years. It could still hold chess pieces and manage basic repairs around the house, but it could no longer hold a paintbrush.
He could no longer sketch those delicate lines. The inspiration in his mind had vanished. The moment he picked up a brush, his hand would start to tremble.
Josephine sat beside him, her soft hand covering the back of her father's. "I know you don't like hospitals, but this time you have to listen to me. I want to see you full of confidence and vigor again."
When she was young, her hands had been much smaller than Preston's—he could wrap them in one palm. Now they were only slightly bigger, but her growth was unmistakable.
Preston remained silent for a long moment before sighing. "Do I have a choice?"
That was clearly surrender.
Josephine smiled. "Just focus on resting at the hospital. I've found you the best doctors. I guarantee they'll help you recover."
Gemma wiped away tears. "He's just stubborn. If he'd agreed to treatment years ago, it wouldn't have dragged on until today."
Caught between his wife and daughter, Preston had absolutely no power to resist. He surrendered in despair. "Stop fussing. I'll listen to you both. Whatever you say goes."
Josephine and Gemma exchanged a smile.
Having dealt with her father, Josephine felt much better. That evening, back in her room, she opened her computer and began researching psychologists.
Last time she'd briefly spoken with a doctor, they'd mentioned that Preston's issues went beyond the physical—more than anything, it was a psychological burden.
Deep down, he believed he could no longer pick up a brush. He'd abandoned that aspiration entirely. Even the trembling in his hands might be caused by psychological trauma.
She quickly found a webpage—an article by a foreign psychologist published in a journal. She looked up the psychologist's name.
Jagger Phillips.
Age 50. Dual doctorate from Blue Ridge University. Core expert of the International Society of Psychology. Twenty-six years of practice.
He had extensive experience specializing in severe trauma and treatment-resistant psychological disorders. He'd led national-level psychological interventions, treating numerous high-ranking officials and celebrities. Widely recognized as the ceiling of psychological treatment in the field.
But the more prestigious the credentials and richer the experience, the harder this person would be to engage.
Josephine pressed her lips together, bookmarking the information before closing her computer. She flopped onto her bed and called Oscar on her phone.
After hearing Josephine's situation, Oscar thought for a moment. "Five years ago, I did attend a symposium with that fellow, but..."
"But what?"
"But we didn't exactly get along. We had a rather heated discussion over certain matters..."
Josephine's heart sank.
Oscar was being diplomatic. What experts of their caliber called a "discussion" was actually an extremely intense debate.
The kind where neither would concede to the other.
Josephine had witnessed countless times when Oscar and other professors argued until their faces turned red, even attacking each other personally. While it wouldn't necessarily create lasting enmity, they definitely rolled their eyes at each other every subsequent meeting.
And that was when they were friends.
"So it wouldn't be appropriate for me to approach him directly." Oscar's voice carried a note of gravity, and even more apology. "I can provide you with his contact information. Try reaching out to him yourself first. If that doesn't work, I'll help you figure something out."
"Thank you so much."
Less than a second after hanging up, Jagger's number arrived on Josephine's phone.
Josephine didn't call right away. Acting impulsively would only put him off.
She needed to think of a way to naturally invite this expert over.
Soon enough, Josephine had an idea.
That night, she slept soundly. The nightmares that had plagued her countless times seemed to have dispersed.
Perfectly, the next day was sunny.
The weather was growing increasingly cold. When Josephine left that morning, she deliberately wore a long trench coat and wrapped herself in a thin scarf her mother had knitted.
Arriving at the office, she first went to Cedric's office. "Mr. Getty, there's something I'd like to discuss with you."
Cedric looked up. "Go ahead."
Josephine stood before his desk, placing documents on it and pushing them toward him. "Take a look at this first."
After Cedric quickly scanned the file, he looked at her with some surprise. "A psychological treatment system?"
Josephine nodded. "A few days ago, I had people conduct market research. We discovered that many adolescents in our country have psychological issues."
And that was just a fraction of the data in the materials. They'd only been investigating for less than a week. If they dug deeper, they'd certainly uncover even more substantial data.
Cedric leaned back in his office chair, his fingers lightly tapping the desk. "Continue."
"The NGPAS and Neural Bridge System are both on track now. Once the launch conference is over, they can officially be released to the public. We should be thinking about what comes next."
Cedric smiled. "You came prepared."
Josephine smiled too, her eyes shining brightly. "I don't fight unprepared battles."
Cedric's fingertips gently traced the desktop. "With data this detailed, you must already have a plan."
"Just a preliminary outline so far. I need Mr. Getty's approval first before I can really move forward." Josephine's phrasing was quite clever.
Put plainly, she needed Cedric's support.
A project starting from scratch could abort at any moment for any number of reasons. Without Cedric's backing, executives, board members, or even David could call a halt at any time.
Cedric's lips curved slightly, his gaze fixed on her. He gave her just one sentence. "Do whatever you need to do."
Josephine's eyes lit up. "Mr. Getty, I promise I won't disappoint you."
Cedric's gaze settled on the scarf around her neck. He said something seemingly unrelated. "The scarf is beautiful."
Josephine paused, reaching up to touch it. Her expression instantly softened. "My mother knitted it. She's incredibly skilled."
"It's getting cold. Take care of yourself." Cedric's tone was flat, more like an offhand concern from a superior.
But Josephine was still happy—not because of his concern, but because her ideas had been recognized and supported.
"You too, Mr. Getty."
Back in her office, Josephine opened her computer and converted all her vague concepts into text, inputting them into a document.
She stayed busy until the end of the workday.
Emma suddenly rushed over, looking anxious. "There's a small problem with the neural regulation system data. You need to come take a look right away."
Josephine arrived at the research lab. Before even entering, she could hear the chaos inside.
"How is this my fault? All the data came from you. I just input it."
"Don't you check before inputting?"
"You were careless and wrote the wrong data, and you're blaming me for not checking?"
"I'm human, not a machine. Even machines can make mistakes. If checking isn't necessary and inputting is all that matters, what do I need you for? Why not just use AI?"
"Stop fighting, stop fighting. This isn't the time to shift blame."
A man and a woman were arguing fiercely.
Colleagues around them tried to mediate, but it was useless. Their voices only grew louder.
Josephine pushed open the door—and saw Gideon. He wore a sharply tailored black suit, his expression icy cold. He stood there while people around him deliberately kept their distance.
Gideon met Josephine's gaze. His eyes flickered slightly, his voice indifferent. "I need you to give me a perfect solution."