Chapter 228
"Mr. Phillips, my father's psychological treatment can't be delayed any longer." Josephine said earnestly. "We agreed before—you promised you'd treat my father. Why suddenly..."
"Ms. Kennedy." Jagger cut her off, clearly displeased. "Can't you see I have guests right now? Blocking me like this is extremely rude."
Josephine gripped her purse tightly, nails digging into her palm.
David chuckled lightly. "Young people—impatient by nature. Understandable."
Jagger looked at him. "Let's go. I've prepared your favorite tea. We should have a good conversation."
With that, he and David walked toward the elevator together.
Gideon remained behind. After the others left, he walked over to Josephine and said quietly, "What are you doing here?"
"Seeking medical help."
Gideon frowned slightly. "Jagger and Grandfather have a very good relationship."
Only then did Josephine turn to look at him, a trace of inquiry in her eyes. "How good?"
Gideon fell silent for a moment.
He knew Josephine was using him to gather information. And he knew he should refuse, or use this as leverage against her. He'd always been good at pushing boundaries, using any means necessary.
But...
Looking at Josephine's somewhat weary appearance, that stubborn refusal to give up buried deep in her eyes, he felt an unexpected pang of sympathy. "They're old acquaintances. They used to be very good friends."
"Good enough that... Mr. Phillips would turn down cases he doesn't want to take, out of respect for Grandfather." Gideon's voice was soft.
Of course.
Josephine closed her eyes and took a deep breath.
She opened them again, laughing mockingly. "Mr. David Getty really went all out. Coming here personally for my father's illness—I should thank him for valuing me so highly."
The words were spoken through gritted teeth.
Gideon sighed softly and raised his hand to touch her hair, but Josephine instantly stepped back, putting distance between them.
His hand froze mid-air before slowly lowering. "I'll find a way to help you."
Josephine looked at him skeptically. "How will you help?"
Gideon felt bitter inside. She didn't trust him. Those eyes that used to stir his heart no longer held any love—only unfamiliarity and coldness.
Even when she spoke to him, it was only to use him.
But...
He was still willing.
"Jagger has an odd personality. He doesn't listen to anyone except close friends. There's only one person who can change his mind."
"Who?"
"His wife."
Josephine's eyes lit up. Even if it was just a faint hope, she wasn't willing to give up. "I understand. Thank you."
She hurried away.
Gideon watched her figure disappear into the rain, feeling an emptiness in his chest.
He still couldn't let her go.
Even if she used him. Even if her eyes no longer held him.
At ten p.m., Josephine returned to her apartment. There was an unread text on her phone.
Gideon: [Ms. Faye Tudor's interests: opera, especially Romeo and Juliet. She goes to the opera study society every Tuesday afternoon.]
An address followed.
Josephine stared at the message for a few seconds. Though she'd already had someone investigate, they hadn't been as fast as Gideon.
She replied: [Thank you.]
On the other side.
David and Jagger were dining. Gideon had finished eating long ago, but with the elders still at the table, he couldn't leave. He sat idly, immediately checking his phone when it buzzed.
Seeing that message, a subtle joy bloomed in his heart.
"Gideon, what are you looking at?" David spoke.
Gideon looked up to meet David's deep, probing gaze and calmly placed his phone face-down on the table. "Company matters."
Josephine set down her phone, her mind racing.
Opera... She'd never been exposed to this traditional art form, but it didn't matter. She could learn.
Josephine immediately opened her computer and searched for opera teachers in the city. By one a.m., she'd finally contacted a professional teacher willing to do short-term instruction.
Early the next morning, Josephine appeared at the teacher's door.
"Ms. Kennedy, opera can't be learned in just a few days." The teacher looked at her somewhat helplessly. "This art requires long-term practice, ideally starting from childhood."
"I know," Josephine said earnestly, "but I only need to learn a small section from Romeo and Juliet. Three days... just three days."
Looking at her determined eyes, the teacher finally agreed.
For the next three days, Josephine cancelled all her work and devoted every moment to learning opera.
From vocalization to posture, from eye expression to hand gestures, she practiced over and over.
When her voice went hoarse, she drank warm water.
When her legs ached from standing, she'd sit for five minutes before continuing.
On the third afternoon, Josephine stood at the entrance to the opera study society, took a deep breath, and walked in.
She immediately spotted the most striking woman there.
She had an elegant bearing and graceful figure. Though clearly getting on in years, she was refined and poised. She sat in a chair in the hall, focused intently on the young performers onstage.
Josephine found a corner seat and quietly hummed along with the performance.
Her voice was soft, but because she sang awkwardly, it still caught the attention of several opera enthusiasts nearby.
Faye heard it too. She turned her head, and when she saw Josephine, curiosity flickered in her eyes.
After the performance ended, Josephine didn't leave immediately. Instead, she stood in the courtyard, practicing the passages she'd just heard in a low voice while watching a video on her phone.
"The modulation in that part should be softer." A gentle voice spoke behind her.
Josephine turned to see Faye standing there.
"I... I'm not very good at singing." Josephine said somewhat embarrassedly, with the shy awkwardness of a beginner.
Faye said softly, "I can tell you're just starting out. But your pitch is good, and you have a nice natural voice."
"Really?" Josephine's eyes lit up, as if receiving tremendous encouragement.
Faye nodded with a smile and walked slowly to her side. Her voice was beautiful, soft as still water. "What made you want to learn opera? Not many young people are interested these days."
Josephine lowered her head, voice quiet. "My father needs psychological treatment. Mr. Phillips is an expert in that area, but he's been very busy lately with no time for appointments. I happened to hear that the professor's wife loves opera, so I thought I'd learn. Maybe through this, I could ask the professor to help my father."
Her words were half-truth, half-fabrication—revealing her purpose while demonstrating her sincerity.
The smile disappeared from Faye's face. She pondered for a moment before asking, "What's your father's condition?"
Josephine briefly explained her father's illness and how she'd exhausted herself trying to find treatment without success.
By the end, her eyes had reddened—genuine worry and helplessness.
Faye was silent for a long time before asking a question. "You know who I am?"
Josephine nodded. "I know you love opera."
And that she was the professor's wife.
Faye was somewhat curious. "Why didn't you hide your identity? Aren't you afraid I'd think you're approaching me with ulterior motives?"
Josephine smiled bitterly. "If I'd approached you with lies from the start, you wouldn't want to help a liar anyway, would you?"
Faye smiled and asked again, "Do you still want to learn?"
"Yes."
Josephine nodded firmly.
At first, she'd wanted to get close to Faye, but later she'd genuinely discovered opera's appeal.
"Then come with me." Faye took her hand.
Josephine followed Faye to her personal rest room at the society. For the next two hours, Faye was like a professional teacher, patiently teaching her proper vocalization and how to convey emotion.
Josephine studied seriously and progressed quickly. When leaving, Faye said, "Tomorrow afternoon, I'm having some friends over for a gathering. Come too. Sing something for me—and let my husband hear as well."
Josephine's heart raced.
"Thank you, Ms. Tudor."