“Arnold didn't plant any bombs. We have to get out of here.” Ryan decisively made the decision. Morgan remained silent as his heart sank. He swiftly left the third floor, heading directly to the second. Instead of searching for an exit, he took a roundabout path. After Dexter ended his conversation, he opened the door, attempting to descend through the safe passage. But as he turned a corner, he found himself staring down the barrel of a gun. A mechanical voice echoed. “What a good strategy, Mr. Russell.” Dexter looked up calmly, not at all surprised. “Mr. Dalton.” “This game isn't fun. If Arnold hadn't turned against me, you wouldn't have been able to leave Rivodia.” Morgan inched closer, his gun already loaded. “It's a shame.” Dexter chuckled softly. “When it comes to manipulating emotions, I'm a cut above you.” Morgan pursed his lips, his finger tense on the trigger. “If I move my hand, you'll die right here.” “You wouldn't kill me because I'm the only one who can put an end to this farce and prevent the evidence from reaching the federal government.” Dexter navigated the situation with ease. “I hate your arrogance,” Morgan said through gritted teeth. “Then just kill me.” After a long, tense stare down, under immense pressure, Morgan suddenly raised his hand and shot Dexter's arm. Blood splattered everywhere. Dexter's face turned pale in an instant, and he almost fell to his knees. But he still managed to force a smile. “I told you to kill me, not wound me. Mr. Dalton, you lack the guts.” Morgan understood what the evidence implied. “Make them stop, or I swear I'll kill you. I've heard your heart isn't in the best condition, Mr. Russell.” Dexter was growing weak, drops of his blood staining the floor, exuding a metallic scent. “That's no way to threaten someone. Whether I live or die doesn't matter. Why not threaten me with Josie? You should know she's the one I care about the most.” A wicked grin spread across his face. “Are you scared, Mr. Dalton? Is it because she's someone you care about?” Morgan was on the verge of pulling the trigger again, a chill running down his spine as he stared at him in disbelief. The gunshot had startled everyone in the banquet hall, causing an immediate uproar. Everyone had lost control, all craning their necks to witness the unfolding scene. The masked man, with a gun pointed at Dexter's heart, was constantly teetering on the brink of losing control. Yet, Dexter was fearless as he continued, “I've noticed something for a while now, Mr. Dalton. You have a scar on your thumb, and so does Morgan. It's quite the coincidence.” The atmosphere was heavy. Morgan was utterly exhausted, finally accepting the harsh reality of his defeat. “If that's the case, let's all die together.” Everyone held their breath. At that moment, a clear voice echoed from the entrance. “No! Don't!” Morgan's actions came to a complete halt. His eyes were wide with shock. Josie had just stumbled in, her hair a complete mess. She stood pale-faced downstairs, looking up at them, pleading, “Don't! Don't shoot! I beg you!” A substantial amount of blood was dripping from the upper floor to the one below. She was on the verge of tears, her voice trembling with emotion. How is this possible? What is Josie doing here? She should be at the Securities and Exchange Commission at this time! Dexter was equally astonished. He lost his composure, abruptly turning around. Upon seeing her clearly, he roared, “Who asked you to come here? Go back!” Josie struggled to keep her emotions in check, shaking her head vehemently. “I have something to say. Don't shoot.” Morgan's hand holding the gun began to tremble as his emotions ran high, and only Dexter noticed that. “Morgan! I know it's you!”