Chapter124 Bouquet
Winona hit the brakes, and the florist, noticing her, comically fumbled for his phone, comparing it to her vehicle.
Once he confirmed the match, he awkwardly approached.
By this point, the whole studio crew was gathered at the entrance, watching curiously. The florist, wrestling with the huge bouquet, was hard to miss.
Her car was now parked in the studio's lot; backing out wasn't an option—it would only draw more attention and avoid nothing. She watched helplessly as the man made his way over.
"Excuse me, are you Mrs. Bailey?" he called out, his voice was piercing even through the closed windows.
Winona hesitated, then got out of her car, each second feeling like an eternity.
"These flowers are from Mr. Bailey," he said, "Could you please sign for them?"
As soon as his voice fell, the buzz of gossip from her colleagues rose like a chorus. With a small staff and mundane work, the sight of the bouquet had ignited a wildfire of curiosity.
They had all followed the news about her yesterday; even the most news-averse among them had received the gossip link. No one had imagined that their unassuming Windy was in fact Winona Sullivan of the Bailey Group.
The Baileys, after all, were an institution of wealth and prestige.
Winona looked at the clipboard the man extended towards her but didn't take it.
Struggling to manage the unwieldy bouquet with one hand, the delivery person's grip wavered slightly, but they persisted, holding out the slip for her to sign.
To escape the curious stares of her coworkers, Winona Sullivan swiftly scribbled her signature and said, “Just dump the flowers.”
Taking her literally, the delivery person set the flowers down on the hood of the car, and bolted.
As if he could toss away a customer's order—his shop's reputation was at stake!
Avoiding her colleagues' prying eyes, Winona slid back into her car and dialed the instigator. "Zachary Bailey, what's this supposed to mean?"
Just seconds before, Zachary had received notification from the flower shop that Winona Sullivan had received the flowers. Her tone of annoyance furrowed his brow. "You're not happy?"
"Get lost," snapped Winona. She hadn't even started to settle scores with him yet. "If you could just agree to divorce me without the fuss, without clinging to me, I'd be thrilled."
Silence filled the other end of the line.
Winona felt the frustration of punching into a void, her anger with no outlet.
Sensing her mood, Zachary said, "Then you might never be happy in this lifetime."
Grinding her teeth, Winona spit out each word: “Stop sending flowers to my studio."
Then adding, "And not to my home either."
"I thought all women love grand gestures like this?"
"Who the hell told you...," she seethed, her anger mounting before a memory hit her. "I said Fiona Clark loves them."
Recalling Fiona flaunting the flowers, Winona's voice dripped with sarcasm: "You're really something, treating your wife and mistress the same, not even bothering to change the color. Dream on if you think you can have them both."
In the office, Dylan Collins noted his boss’s mood shift from pleased to dark to livid, cursing his recent bad luck to always be caught in the crossfire.
With the call ended, Zachary looked up at Dylan standing before him. "How did the invitation to the auction end up with Fiona?"
Having planned not to attend, he'd instructed Dylan to dispose of the invite, never expecting it to cause such a mix-up in Fiona's hands.
"I asked the cleaning staff from that day,” Dylan reported. "Someone bought it from her—a man, wearing a mask and a hat, so she couldn’t see his face clearly."
He glanced nervously at Zachary Bailey's expression, "As for whether Miss Clark is the person behind the scenes, we can't determine that yet."
At that time, he was preoccupied with preparing materials for a meeting and carelessly discarded the invitation. It seemed like a fancy but ultimately trivial thing. Who would've thought it'd actually lead to an issue?
Zachary Bailey looked at him with a chilling gaze, causing Dylan Collins 's knees to weaken and his heart to race. He couldn't help but start contemplating where he'd look for a new job.
"Hand the matter over to the police, get in touch with our legal department, and proceed legally," the man spoke with a detached tone. "Make a mistake like this again, and I'll question whether you're fit for your current position."
Dylan Collins exhaled in relief, "Mr. Bailey, I assure you there won't be a next time."
After saying this, he was ready to leave quickly, fearing any delay might cause Bailey to change his mind.
"Hold on," Dylan stopped in his tracks as Zachary was still pondering over the nonsense Winona Sullivan had said, "Check on Fiona, see if she's received any flowers or anything of the sort recently."
His voice was icy, making the air around them drop in temperature as well.
Dylan was confused. Did Mr. Bailey fancy Winona or Miss Clark? Or was it that he wanted them both? Though his mind was a whirlwind of thoughts, he kept his composure, "Right."
In the end, Winona Sullivan threw the flowers in the trash and snapped a photo to send to Zachary Bailey. She wasn't trying to upset him - she simply wanted to make it clear that he should stop sending flowers; she wouldn't accept them.
In the short time she took to do this, Rebecca Davis had sent her several messages: "That picture was posted by a junior who's interning at Fiona Clark's dance company, bragging about how Zachary Bailey spoils Fiona Clark, and there's a whole bunch of people complimenting and congratulating them. Do cheating men and his paramours have fans now?"
"I saw Fiona Clark explain in the comments, telling everyone not to misunderstand, that she and Mr. Bailey are just friends."
Winona texted her back, telling her to let it be, hoping Fiona would work hard enough so she could get her divorce sooner rather than later.
Because of the bouquet that morning, she had been the butt of jokes at work all day. It had been a long one, and just as she was about to leave for the day, she spotted Zachary Bailey's ostentatious and conspicuous Bentley parked right outside her studio.
Winona Sullivan frowned with impatience. "What do you want?"
Zachary Bailey replied with a nonchalant smile, "Since flowers aren't your thing, I figured I'd just come and pick you up after work."
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