Chapter120 The Ex-Husband
After driving away from there last night, Austin did stop by the hospital to get his
wounds dressed, but now, under Winona Sullivan's piercing gaze, he simply
shook his head. "No."
"Take off the mask, let me see your wound."
Austin glanced around—the front of the apartment was buzzing with tenants.
"Here? Maybe we should find somewhere else."
Those two looming figures behind them were clearly Zachary Bailey's
bodyguards. Being seen by them was as good as being seen by his rival, wasn't
it?
"You’re not stripping, just taking off a mask. You need a whole new location for
that? Or should we get you a hotel room?" she said sarcastically.
"Well, that’s not out of the question…" Austin replied, half in jest.
Winona was in no mood for banter and promptly yanked the mask off his face,
exposing the wound. Austin, anticipating her move, reflexively lifted a hand to
stop her but then forced himself to relax it.
He was strong, and the last thing he wanted was to hurt Winona by accident.
His injury was now on full display—after a night of settling, it looked even worse
than before.
Winona pursed her lips, silent for a few seconds before deciding, "I'm taking you
to the hospital."
They were only seeing the surface injuries, which were severe. Hidden internal
injuries were another concern...
Delaying could mean regrets that would come too late.
"I thought we had plans to grab a bite? I'm up and about—" Austin protested,
trying to emphasize his resilience.
But one look from Winona's disapproving eyes had him backpedaling, "How
about after lunch then? I've already made reservations."
Who would choose the hospital over the classy ambiance of a good restaurant?
The chance to reminisce about the past and dream about the future was worth
more than a rushed hospital conversation
Winona, clearly agitated, countered, "Is food more important to you than your
life?"
She snatched the car keys from his hand. "You're in the passenger seat."
When she saw him hobbling over earlier, she couldn't help but scoff at the risk he
was taking by driving in his condition. "Driving with a limp? You're not afraid of
crashing into a flower bed?"
Austin trailed behind her like a scolded puppy, silently taking the earful without
protest.
Winona Sullivan settled herself into the driver's seat first. As he reached for the
passenger door, he noticed the bodyguards following with the intention to get
into the backseat. His expression immediately turned icy as he firmly placed his
hand on the door.
The message was crystal clear—
Do not get in, back off!
Bodyguard: "Mr. Robinson, we are tasked with ensuring Winona's safety. Please,
allow us the convenience."
"Why should I? You're not following my orders. You can go seek convenience
from whoever sent you. The car's mine, and if I say you're not getting in, you're
not getting in. Try me, and I'll call the cops for an attempted takeover of my
private property."
The bodyguards exchanged a glance and a silent agreement—they decided to
follow in another vehicle instead.
The one not driving dialed Zachary Bailey: "Mr. Bailey, Winona is taking Mr.
Robinson to the hospital."
They had overheard the exchange, although they hadn't reached the destination
yet.
Several minutes of silence weighed on the other end of the line. The bodyguards
didn’t dare rush him, sensing the tension. Judging from Winona and Mr.
Robinson's earlier conversation, Mr. Robinson's wounds were inflicted by Mr.
Bailey, who seemed to have sustained injuries himself.
And yet, while Winona was escorting Mr. Robinson to the hospital, she hadn't
spared a single word of concern for her own husband—not only showing
indifference but also having had a row in the morning.
Their voices, unfiltered through the door that was not soundproof, hit the ears of
the bodyguards without missing a beat.
Amidst the bodyguards' anxious wait, Zachary Bailey finally responded through
the receiver, "Hmm, got it."
...
Austin's injuries were superficial, nothing serious—just some scrapes and cuts
that would heal over time, though a few bleeding wounds required dressing
changes.
After leaving the hospital, Winona handed him the meds, "Remember, change the
bandages every three days. If you don't want to do it yourself, come to the
hospital or find a clinic and let a doctor do it for you. And keep them dry."
Hooking the bag with one finger, Austin raised an eyebrow in a roguish manner,
oozing a strong hormonal presence. His skin was a deep, sun-kissed bronze from
constant training, with a fit and even physique.
Such a man, who looked the very picture of rugged honesty, asked her in a
teasing tone from his advantaged height, "What about showers?"
"..."
"I can’t go without forever, can I? What if it doesn't heal for months—am I
supposed to just stink to death?"
Winona Sullivan flashed him a teasing grin, "It's not like anyone else is going to
smell your place since you live alone anyway."
It was just a scratch that didn't even require stitches, not a broken leg that
needed months to heal.
Without lingering a moment longer, she turned on her heel and left.
Austin's face fell as he hurried after her. "Hey, have a heart, would you? I'm
injured, after all. And it's already seven o'clock."
The thought of such a large, muscular man nearly six feet three inches
complaining in such a whiny tone sent shivers down Winona's spine. “Speak
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