Chapter 289

I wondered if Matthew secretly enjoyed this pampering when alone. My mind wandered, conjuring various scenarios.

“Come, have a seat,” Thorsten said, gesturing to the chair.

I sat, and an attendant poured me water, fussing attentively. I was unaccustomed to such service but resolved to accept Thorsten’s style.

“You’re not married, are you?” he asked, sipping his tea.

“No.”

He smiled. “So, when are you joining the Johnston family?”

I was startled. He didn’t know Jace and I had broken up, and his son had tried to deceive me into becoming his daughter-in-law. I wondered how he would have reacted if I’d arrived last time as Cole’s fiancée.

“Not happening,” I said bluntly.

Thorsten remained unfazed, laughing lightly. “Where are you working now?”

He knew I wouldn't be at RiverwaveCorp.

“A small company,” I replied vaguely. He likely wouldn't recognize the name.

“What kind of boyfriend are you looking for?” he asked, skillfully avoiding my unspoken questions.

I couldn’t discern his motives. “I already have a boyfriend.”

“Oh?” Thorsten raised an eyebrow, tapping his cup. He didn’t press further, but my frustration grew. “Mr. Drago, do you know Alan Kay?”

Thorsten shook his head. “I don’t remember.”

My heart sank. I produced the contract from my father’s notebook. “Please, look at this.”

Thorsten glanced at it briefly. “Get to the point.”

What was the point? I should have asked why Matthew received the unsigned contract, or if my father's accident was connected to it. I suspected Matthew’s involvement, yet he cared deeply for me. How could I accuse him?

Chapter 251

Was I supposed to ask why Matthew received the unsigned contract? Or if my father's accident was connected to it—if someone had caused it to obtain the contract? Ultimately, I suspected Matthew's involvement.

But Matthew cared so much for me. Even Thorsten had acknowledged this. How could I accuse him?

My silence elicited a chuckle from Thorsten. “They say treasure the one you’re with, right?”

My throat tightened. Thorsten set down his teacup; an attendant immediately offered a napkin. He wiped his fingers and continued, “The dead are gone, and life goes on. You understand?”

“I don’t want my parents' deaths to be an unsolved mystery,” I insisted.

“And what kind of truth are you hoping to find?” Thorsten asked.

I was speechless. He smiled faintly. “I met a man recently in a car accident. He suffered brain damage and now, at forty, lives like a child. He only cares about food, drinks, and games. People find it tragic, but his wife says he’s happier. You know why?”

Thorsten picked up a small box, sniffed it, and inhaled deeply. It was scented balm.

“Before the accident, he was stressed, always needing perfection. It wore him out. Now, he’s at peace. Sometimes, not overthinking is a gift. Do you understand?” His words resonated deeply.

I understood. I took a breath, reflecting on my own overthinking. “I just want to love the person who loves me without overthinking everything.”