Chapter132 No Way Out
In the days that followed, Winona Sullivan hadn’t seen those men in the apartment again. She realized she might have overthought the situation that night and quickly put the whole thing out of her mind.
The show had just finished taping and had not yet aired, and if someone were truly out to harm her, now wouldn’t be the time.
That day, after working late, Winona received a call from Austin, who started with a grievance, "If I don’t reach out to you first, do you just pretend I don’t exist?"
They hadn’t been in touch since parting ways at the hospital. He had been busy, and it wasn’t until he caught his breath that he noticed she hadn’t sent even a single message his way.
Her laughter slipped out despite herself. "How's your injury? Did you follow the doctor’s orders and change your bandage?"
The man huffed over the phone. "You finally remember to show some concern for me."
Winona went on packing her things, not taking the bait.
After about fifteen seconds, Austin grumbled, "You weren’t the most talkative in school, but back then, you were the type who’d step up bravely and do the right thing, a warm-hearted and passionate youth. How have you become so silent over the years?"
"Did you call just to complain about me?"
"Of course not, I'm calling you out for a late-night bite," Austin's voice drawled, "Come down, I'm outside waiting for you."
"I'm at the studio, not home."
"This late?" Austin glanced at his wristwatch; it was already past eight. He had just finished up and came straight over, planning to ask her out to dinner. "Hold on, didn't Rebecca Davis say your workspace is at home? Where's this studio? I'll come pick you up."
Winona Sullivan froze, right, she hadn't gotten around to telling Rebecca Davis that she was back working at View Studio.
"No need, I drove. Not much around here to eat. Just drop me a pin when you've picked a spot, and I'll head over."
"Alright then."
After hanging up, Winona Sullivan tidied up her desk, double-checked electricity to ensure everything was off, and then with keys in hand, she headed out.
At night in the winter, the streets were deserted, and the studio’s off-the-beaten-path location near no business district made it all the more desolate.
She locked the door and briskly walked to the parking lot. When she saw her car, Winona's pace halted.
The parking lot was nearly empty, so the group of people loitering by her car stood out, some sitting, some standing - a head of blond hair particularly conspicuous in the dark.
They were there for Winona Sullivan. The moment she appeared, they spotted her.
"Mrs. Sullivan, you sure kept us waiting in this freezing weather. We're about to turn into popsicles here. How about you open up the car and let us warm up a bit?"
The speaker was a man Winona had seen a few days ago, smirking at her outside her apartment.
Winona tensed, her hand slipping into her bag to grasp her phone. "I don't know you."
"No matter, we know you," they approached her, "It’s nothing serious, we’d just like to ask for a favor from Mrs. Sullivan."
Seeing their intent, Winona spun around and bolted. Stalling wasn't going to work with this determined crowd.
Despite her efforts to escape, they quickly caught up and encircled her..
"Relax, we're just going to take some pictures, nothing more," they reassured her as the temperature bit into their bones. "Mrs. Sullivan, do us a solid and cooperate so we can all get this over with and get back."
Winona held her breath, "Who sent you?"
Her eyes swept the desolate surroundings; not a soul in sight, not even a stray dog.
"This is a private matter. It's best if you don't get involved. Haven't you heard that the more you know, the worse the outcome?" The leader gestured to his crew, "Go easy, be careful not to hurt anyone, and make sure to get clear shots."
The goons advanced toward her with menacing grins, and Winona Sullivan kept backing up, but there were people behind her too; she was trapped with nowhere to go...
At that moment, Zachary Bailey left Crest Manor with a stormy expression and immediately dialed Winona Sullivan's number.
Lately, his mother had taken to mocking him relentlessly, yet she insisted on summoning him home every night, chiding that without a wife, his life in Regal Oaks was just too dull.
He never expected that today, of all days, she'd also call his father back—
Learn more, practice more.
Right now, Winona Sullivan looked at him as if he were trash, wishing to be as far away from him as possible. How could he "practice"?
The phone rang and rang, almost reaching the point of disconnecting, until finally, someone picked up. Before he could speak, a woman's shrill voice, intermixed with harsh breathing, cried out, "I'm here, ah..."
Then a click sounded, and the line went dead.
Zachary Bailey's face changed drastically, a dark fury flickering in his eyes. He redialed with urgent speed—
But it went straight to voicemail.
The man started his car and headed in the direction of Winona Sullivan's apartment, gripping the steering wheel with his long, powerful fingers. He one-handedly swiped across the screen and tapped a number, "Find out where Winona Sullivan is, you have three minutes."
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