Chapter125 Jealousy
Winona stepped out with her colleagues who now offered her friendly grins after teasing her all day. As she met their eyes with newfound composure, Jessica slipped by with a whisper, "Windy, you didn't quite cover up that hickey behind your ear."
For someone like Winona, who had leaped straight into marriage without so much as a boyfriend, no amount of poise could salvage the embarrassment of such a moment. She shot her hand up to her ear, blocking Jessica's gaze.
"Don't bother, everyone's seen it."
Winona had meticulously concealed the marks on her neck with concealer, worn a high-neck sweater, wrapped a scarf, and even let down her hair, which she usually kept up. All that effort, and still it wasn't enough to hide the evidence.
Jessica's bubbly personality left no room for shyness; after greeting Zachary and seeing Winona's flushed face, she excused herself.
The studio staff, along with the janitorial team, numbered barely in the teens; within a blink, only Winona and Zachary remained at the entrance.
"Get in the car."
"Do you realize whom you're dealing with, Mr. Bailey?" Winona's temper had been tested by his unwavering persistence for quite some time, yet now she found herself unable to unleash her anger at his sight. "What kind of woman do you think has the guts to get into Mr. Bailey’s car?"
A clear sign she was still vexed about last night’s events.
Zachary peered at her and after a long moment simply said, "Sorry, I couldn't help myself."
His apology sounded hollow, lacking any real sincerity.
Winona thought to herself, "Why waste time arguing with him here? Words, sarcastic or not, serve no purpose, and it’s not like I can slap some sense into him..."
"Winona Sullivan," he called out just as she was turning to leave. "Aren't you going to take your mother's belongings?"
Winona turned back.
The air conditioning was on in the car; he sat there, donned in a shirt and slacks, with every button done up, just revealing his Adam's apple. No matter how striking he was in appearance, it couldn’t conceal his despicable nature.
"Why would my mother's things be with you?"
Carlos had promised to send her the belongings, even provided her with a tracking number, but after that, silence took over. She never believed the items, likely long gone by now, would actually be returned to her, so she had stopped paying attention.
Although Zachary Bailey was far from a saint, he wouldn't stoop to deception over something like this. If he really wanted to, finding those items would be a breeze—so easy it wasn't worth his time to lie.
"Get in."
Winona Sullivan took a deep breath, opened the car door, and got inside.
Zachary cast a glance at her, noting her rummaging through her bag only to pull out a car safety hammer.
Without a word, he had no doubt; that hammer was meant for cracking his skull if need be.
As they drove towards Regal Oaks, Winona immediately turned to look out the window, her body language rejecting any attempt at conversation.
"Why did you throw out the flowers?" Zachary inquired.
"What else? Was I supposed to show them off with a photo on the college forum?" Winona’s response, dripping with sarcasm, seemed to have forgotten whom she was dealing with. Zachary Bailey was a man brimming with self-assurance. After a brief silence, he asked, "Jealous? Those flowers for Fiona Clark weren't from me."
Winona was baffled. Not wanting to let irritation get the better of her, she chose to stay silent. Against such unabashed confidence, any explanation would seem like concealment, any silence like agreement.
For her mother's mementos, Winona decided to endure.
At the Regal Oaks.She had moved out months ago. Though she had come back briefly since, it had always been a fleeting visit without much notice. She thought returning would feel alien, but upon opening the door, everything was exactly as she left it—the decoration placements hadn't even changed.
In the shoe cabinet, her slippers lay where she left them. She had moved during summer, and now here stood her winter slippers, as if she had never left.
"Where are my mom's things?"
"Upstairs in the second bedroom."
With a lead, Winona brushed past Zachary without another word and hurried upstairs.
The collection wasn't vast—just some antiques and related items. She couldn't be sure if they all belonged to her mother, but among them, several familiar pieces caught her eye.
Zachary leaned against the doorframe, not entering. "The sold items——bags, clothes, shoes，they've been worn. I didn't buy them back."
Those items were luxury brands and, despite being pre-owned, still had a market.
Winona opened a toolbox filled with antique restoration supplies. They weren't worth much, perhaps the reason they were well-preserved.
"Thank you," she said quietly. "Could I have a suitcase?"
Though her mother had passed away a long time ago, and Winona Sullivan had since found her equilibrium, the sight of these familiar belongings still stirred a pang of sorrow within her.
Zachary Bailey spoke, "We don't have any at the house. I sent someone to buy one; it'll take about half an hour."
Winona stood with her back to him, a silhouette that betrayed no emotion, "I've got a meeting to attend. The staff will bring it up to you once they're back."
He left, quietly closing the door behind him.
It wasn't until his footsteps had faded into the distance that Winona's shoulders sagged, and she collapsed into a chair. How could the house be out of suitcases? Zachary's excuse was a thinly veiled hint that for the next half hour, no one would disturb her; she could freely let her emotions flow.
As Winona looked over the items, a wave of familiarity washed over her—each one a vestige of her mother's life.
Minutes later, her face was buried in her hands.
When the servant arrived with the suitcase a half hour later, Winona declined any assistance. She packed the items herself and carried the suitcase downstairs.
Zachary sat at the dining table, a lavish dinner spread before him. "Come eat," he called.
Winona left without a word, heading straight for the door with the suitcase in hand.
The villa was expansive, with a considerable distance from the dining room to the front door. When Zachary caught up with her at the entrance, she was about to leave.
"I'll drive you after dinner," Zachary offered.
"Thanks for retrieving my mother's things, but I won't disturb your intimate evening," Winona replied, her tone frosty.
Zachary hadn't understood her drift until a familiar female voice called out from outside, "Zachary."
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