It was a seemingly random question, yet Dexter's reaction was anything but. He abruptly turned his head and began coughing violently. He gasped for breath, his face turning bright red. Fortunately, Kayla returned with a glass of water. "Here," she said, "take a sip to calm down."

Dexter finished the entire glass before finally catching his breath. "Dad, what's wrong?" Kayla asked, confused.

"It's nothing," he replied. "Kayla, it's late. Go to your room and get some rest. Your mother and I are going to bed." He grabbed Myra's hand and quickly headed toward their bedroom.

This was the first time Dexter had lost his composure in front of Myra. He seemed as if something were chasing him; his expression was panicked, his steps unsteady, and he was trembling. He was afraid, but of what?

Kayla frowned. Even the threat of bankruptcy hadn't scared Dexter this much. Something must have happened while she was getting water. Her eyes flickered, and she silently followed them.

Myra was confused by Dexter's sudden urgency. She whined as he pulled her into the bedroom, "What are you doing? Why are you in such a rush?"

But Dexter wasn't in the mood for romance. Anxiously, he asked, "Who told you that?"

"Told me what?" Myra was puzzled.

"The part about me stealing something. Who told you that?" Dexter pressed.

Myra's expression shifted. "Did you really steal something? What did you steal? You didn't cheat on me, did you?"

Dexter nearly choked again. His wife's suspicious glare made him sweat even more profusely. "Why are you acting like a thief?" Myra asked, her confusion growing. "If you wanted something, couldn't we have just bought it? Why did you need to steal it?"

"Because it couldn't be bought…" Dexter's pained expression suggested the situation was too complicated to explain. "It's a priceless treasure."

"What is it? Just tell me already!" Myra urged, anxious.

Dexter sighed and explained, "Remember last year when I attended that yacht party? I even hired a new team of bodyguards for safety. Well, that night… something happened."

Dexter's mind drifted back to that fateful evening. He had been invited to a grand yacht party attended by prominent figures. The event was bustling with activity: guests socializing, deals being negotiated, dancers performing, and young men entertaining wealthy women. The air was filled with the sounds of clinking glasses, toasts, and conversations.

Dexter himself had been toasted repeatedly, drinking far more than he should have. Feeling dizzy, he left the cabin for some fresh air to sober up. As he wandered to the stern, he saw something that sobered him instantly: a figure floating in the sea, covered in blood and gravely injured.

Dexter froze, then sprang into action. He threw a rope down, urging the person to grab it. But the person was too weak. Halfway up, they lost their strength and began to slip. Dexter was about to call for help when the injured person shook their head. Summoning their last bit of energy, they handed Dexter something and begged, "Please deliver this item to the Russell family in Seldvale. You must make sure it reaches Stephan Russell! I'm begging you!"