Chapter 107 The Pretense of a Fallen Gentleman
Lydia glanced at Zachary, whose mood had clearly worsened. "Even if I've heard something, what does it matter to you? Just answer my questions, and if you don't know, make a call and find out."
Since his marriage, this wasn't the first time Zachary felt belittled by his mother. With a hint of resignation, he massaged his temples and said, "We aren't divorced yet, and do you really think the Watson family would allow Matthew to marry a divorcee?"
"Why wouldn't they? If they think Winona isn't good enough for Matthew, then they're simply blind."
Though she spoke confidently, Lydia was well aware of the difficulty of the situation.
The Watson family wasn't just any family; the women who wanted to marry Matthew could form a line around the block. Even with her support, Winona's history with Zachary would be a hurdle.
It seemed necessary to gauge the Watsons' receptiveness. If there truly was no hope, she would advise Winona to move on. But this would have to wait until Evander returned, as she and Mrs. Watson did not get along at all.
Zachary, oblivious to her thoughts, was relieved to see Lydia silent, thinking she had finally come to her senses. "Mom, why did you suddenly think of setting up Winona with Matthew?"
"They've already been seen strolling the streets together, so there is no need for my intervention." Lydia cast him a disappointed glance and left with her purse in tow.
Five minutes later, Zachary instructed Dylan, who had come in to collect some documents, "Find out where Winona is right now."
Upon hearing Winona's name, Dylan's body tensed up. Fortunately, he had prepared for this and had already sent someone to investigate. "Madam had dinner with Mr. Baker from View Studio."
This just shows that subordinates always act according to their boss's mood. Previously, when Zachary showed disfavor toward Winona, Dylan, while still polite to her, would address her as "Miss Sullivan" or "Winona". However, after sensing a shift in Zachary's attitude, he promptly started referring to her as "madam".
Winona arrived ten minutes early at the restaurant and was led by the waiter to the reserved table, where she found Mr. Baker had already arrived and was enjoying tea. "Mr. Baker, sorry, I'm late."
Mr. Baker waved his hand dismissively. "I'm the early one, actually. I just love this black tea, so I came early to let them brew me a cup."
Winona presented the gift she had brought. "Mr. Baker, thank you for your efforts."
Mr. Baker did not decline. "I wish I had put in more effort, but you're so dependable. It has really saved me trouble."
Winona exchanged a few polite remarks.
Once the pleasantries were finished, Mr. Baker turned serious and broached the main topic. "I've called you several times before to invite you to return to View Studio, but you've declined each time. So today, I've come in person."
Winona knew he would bring it up. "Mr. Baker..."
He raised his hand, stopping her. "Let me finish. I know the way we handled the situation at View Studio disappointed you, but I'm not here on behalf of View Studio. I'm here for the thousands of artifacts that long to see the light of day once again. Only by restoring them can we make history more vivid and allow people to gain a more tangible understanding of the past. As you know, there's already a scarcity of talent in our field. Many artifacts, after being excavated, end up neglected in storage for years due to lack of restoration."
His gaze rested on Winona, yet it seemed to look through her. "You know, you really do bear a resemblance to Harper, who was once a sensation in the industry—not just in your restoration techniques, but even your appearance is somewhat alike."
Hearing her mother's stage name from Mr. Baker unsettled Winona. "Mr. Baker, did you know Harper?"
This was a question she had wanted to ask before but had held back.
The circumstances of her mother's death were dubious, and over the years, she and her grandfather had been conducting a private investigation. They had only roughly determined that it was probably someone in the industry, possibly related to a painting she had been restoring.
There was a rumor that the painting was cursed and that anyone who touched it met with a grisly fate.
But Winona didn't believe it. How could a painting harm anyone?
She entered this circle not only out of personal interest but also because she wanted to find someone who knew the hidden truth of past events.
Mr. Baker took a deep breath and said, "Harper used to work at View Studio as well. She was an exceptional student taken in by my mentor, which technically makes me her mentee. At that time, all of us, a bunch of people in our forties, were shamefully outperformed by the talent and effort of a twenty-year-old girl. But then she left the circle for a man."
He spoke through clenched teeth. "Such a waste of great talent! If I ever find out who that man is, I swear I'll break his legs. If he is good to her, then I'd let it go."
Winona's voice was low, and she kept her head down. "Are you still in touch with her?"
"We lost touch ten years ago."
Her mother died ten years ago.
"Before you lost touch, did she mention anything to you?"
Mr. Baker sensed something was off. "Do you know Harper?"
Winona opened her mouth, tempted for a moment to reveal everything. After all, Mr. Baker, with his extensive connections in the industry, and being both a colleague and mentee of her mother, likely knew far more than she or her grandfather did. But in the end, she held back. "No, I'm just curious about someone who earned such high praise from you."
The events of the past were too complicated; she couldn't be certain Mr. Baker was truly not involved with her mother's death, so for now, she had to keep her silence.
"Mr. Baker, I promise to return to View Studio."
After leaving the restaurant, Winona realized it had started to rain.
The drizzle blurred the world into a hazy mist, and the damp, cold wind blew through her collar, sleeves, and trouser legs, sending a shiver down her spine.
She had come in Matthew's car, but now she would need to take a taxi back.
Mr. Baker, holding an umbrella he'd borrowed from the restaurant, said, "Windy, did you drive here? If not, let me give you a ride."
Winona shook her head. "No need, I..."
She gestured to the street, implying she'd hail a cab, but before she could finish, her outstretched hand was grasped by someone.
Judging by the size of the palm, it was a man. He held her hand, his warm palm against her chilled skin.
Then a large black umbrella covered her head, shielding her from the fine rain. "Mr. Baker, you needn't trouble yourself."
Winona turned to see his face.
Zachary had somehow procured a pair of glasses and had them on, effectively softening the sharpness in his eyes and the lines of his features. His smile, too, seemed especially gentle and warm, as if he were playing the part of a refined scoundrel.
It was the kind of demeanor elders admired, gentle and like a polished jade.
Winona bit her lip and confronted him, "Zachary, what are you doing?"
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