Miss Josefina: Nobody's Princess

Brandon already had an idea. "Bennett, Josie did me a solid. Go get her a little something, will you?"

Bennett asked, "Sir, what sort of gift should I get?"

Brandon rarely gave out gifts. Ever since Oliver came back, Brandon's marriage with his wife, Minerva, had been on the rocks, and they'd been living apart for years. Minerva had moved abroad and hadn't returned for years. They hadn't even gotten around to filing for divorce.

Without much thought, Brandon blurted out, "Clothes, handbags, jewelry-whatever you see fit. Money's no object, so splurge on the expensive stuff."

Hadn't all his gifts to Josefina so far been along those lines? If girls like them, then buy them.

"Understood, sir. I'll have someone take care of it right away," said Bennett as he whipped out his cell phone to send out the instructions.

Brandon added, "And for the birthday bash, skip the riff-raff. Keep it simple. Also, give Rowan this message: if that boy embarrasses me, I'll skin him alive. If push comes to shove, break his legs. Can't cause trouble if he can't walk."

Bennett nodded, a hint of helplessness in his eyes. These were no easy tasks.

Oliver arrived at the villa where Rowan lived. Rowan was drowning his sorrows in booze, with a sea of empty bottles on the table.

Sydney sat on the side, her voice laced with concern, "Rowan, ease up on the drink. You're going to wreck your health."

"I'll drink if I want to. It's none of your business! Go to bed and stop nagging me."

Sydney, feeling helpless, just sat quietly as Oliver came in. Quickly, she said, "Rowan, stop drinking. Oliver's here."

Rowan halted his boozing, seized a bottle, and hurled it at Oliver, shattering it to pieces on the floor.

Oliver stood still, unfazed. Surveying the broken glass, he asked coldly, "You done throwing things?"

Rowan was infuriated by Oliver's fearlessness. He picked up another bottle and smashed it too, filling the air with the sharp scent of alcohol.

Frightened, Sydney retreated from the battleground, not wanting to be caught in the crossfire. The shards of glass would cut deep and sting bitterly.

Rowan stood there, swaying slightly, his eyes seething with malice as he glared at Oliver. The two faced off across the wreckage of broken bottles, their expressions equally icy.

Sydney tried to mediate, "Can't you both just calm down a bit?"

"Get lost!" Oliver and Rowan shouted in unison.

Sydney fell silent. For once, they stood together on the united front.

Rowan said coldly, "Like it or not, I'm having my birthday party."

"Whatever," Oliver replied dismissively. He'd just wait and see what kind of storm Rowan could stir up.

Oliver looked at the mess on the

floor and said, "You can make a scene all you want. I'm just here to see how pathetic you've become The misery my mother went through in the past, you're going to experience it now."

Oliver left without another glance at the disheveled Rowan. Fuming, Rowan followed, still clutching the bottle, intent on using it to bash Oliver's head in. But Oliver

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effortlessly dodged and grabbed the

bottle, smashing it on Rowan's head

instead.

Sydney screamed in fright. Rowan touched his head, which had a gash, and his hands stained with fresh blood.

Oliver spoke coldly, "You can no longer hurt me."