Chapter 285
Lindsay’s expression cooled further at Oscar’s words. A faint, mocking smile touched her lips.
“Compensation? Oscar, the Starr family doesn’t lack anything. You’re being far too courteous.” She paused, then added evenly, “And as for those gifts Michael left behind last time, you may take them back. We don’t need them.”
Oscar did not appear offended. He only nodded mildly, as if he had expected her reaction.
“Lindsay, those were Michael’s sincere intentions. Even if our families don’t become in-laws, there’s no need to turn things hostile. We can remain on friendly terms.”
His tone was calm, measured—carefully chosen.
“In Goldmont City, the Morrison family still has influence. Friendship is always better than conflict, isn’t it?”
Lindsay’s gaze sharpened.
She could see through him clearly. Oscar wasn’t just smoothing things over—he was reminding her of consequences, of leverage, of practicality.
But she had no intention of yielding.
“Influence?” she repeated lightly. “Oscar, you think I would compromise over that?”
Her smile was faint but cutting.
“After what your son did, you still expect me to maintain ties with him? I’m afraid that’s impossible.”
Oscar’s expression didn’t change, but something in his eyes cooled slightly.
He studied her for a moment before speaking again.
“Lindsay, let’s not make this difficult. Tell me what it will take. What needs to be done for you to let Michael return?”
The words landed heavier than before.
Lindsay tilted her head slightly, feigning innocence.
“Let him return?” she echoed. “I don’t understand what you mean.”
Oscar’s patience thinned.
“Lindsay, we’re both reasonable people. Acting so decisively… aren’t you afraid this situation will spiral beyond your control?”
Still, she didn’t move.
“I really don’t understand what you’re referring to.”
Oscar’s voice dropped.
“Michael is currently detained in Naraida. Your family’s business operations are there as well. You know exactly what that means.”
Lindsay’s tone remained steady, almost indifferent.
“Our business being there has nothing to do with his detention. If he’s being investigated, it’s because he caused trouble himself. Shouldn’t you be looking into that instead of coming here?”
Oscar’s gaze darkened.
“Lindsay,” he said slowly, “it’s better to turn swords into plowshares. For everyone’s sake.”
The warning in his voice was unmistakable now.
But Lindsay did not back down.
“Michael’s affairs have nothing to do with me. I cannot intervene. If that’s all you came for, please leave.”
A brief silence fell between them.
Then Oscar stood.
“Very well.”
He adjusted his coat and turned toward the door without another word.
But just before leaving, he cast Lindsay a final glance—cold, sharp, and carrying a pressure that lingered long after he was gone.
Once outside the Starr residence, Oscar’s expression finally sank.
He took out his phone and dialed a number.
The call connected almost immediately.
“Clarice,” he said, voice controlled, “I need your help. You’re familiar with the Starr family situation, aren’t you?”
At the Morrison estate, Clarice paused her meeting. With a subtle gesture, she dismissed the room.
When she heard Oscar’s explanation, she didn’t hesitate.
“Michael’s practically like family to me,” she said lightly. “Don’t worry. I’ll handle the Starr side.”
A pause.
Then her tone shifted slightly.
“Coincidentally… I also have something I need your help with.”