Chapter 146 Zachary Bailey, You're Despicable
Matthew Watson wasn't one to point fingers without cause. He may have seemed gentle on the surface, but underneath, he was aloof—a tough nut to crack. Yet, in that moment, his heart was a tumult of rage, tinged with a pang of empathy and regret. "So, you were sober that night?"
Zachary Bailey gave a curt nod. "Yes."
He was sober; he knew Winona Sullivan had willingly followed him because she mistook him for Matthew Watson. And the night that followed—it was under his coercion.
Without uttering another word, Matthew's fist swung with a fury seldom seen in him, aiming for Zachary's face. Despite not being a brawler, Matthew had been trained from a young age—his wealth attracted adversaries and opportunists alike.
His punch exploded with force against Zachary.
Zachary stumbled back, raised his arm to block, and kicked at Matthew's knee.
The hospital room, small and not sound-proofed, broadcast the scuffle immediately.
Winona Sullivan hadn't descended the stairs; sensing something awry when she saw Matthew's troubled face, she stayed put. She had heard their entire exchange.
Pushing open the door in a rush, she witnessed Zachary's fist hitting Matthew's shoulder—a blow intended for his face, if not for Matthew's evasion.
"Matthew…" She hurried over, pulling the grimacing Matthew away, angry eyes on Zachary. "Have you lost your mind?"
"Move."
It was a gloomy day, the poor light necessitating the overhead bulbs even at that hour, casting a pallid glow on Zachary's face, eerie and unsettling.
Winona, her hair in a bun, had an air of vulnerability about her. Her face, barely larger than a man's palm, was framed by her pastel dress.
But now, she stood defiant like a lioness protecting her cub, with Matthew safely behind her.
"Zachary Bailey, that's enough!" Winona closed her eyes briefly, sick of battling Zachary's ever-lowering bar of decency, too weary to argue further.
She turned to Matthew, scanning his face with a glance before quickly looking down. "Let's go."
Winona Sullivan hated the thought of anyone seeing her in such disarray, even less catching a glimpse of pity in their eyes.
Matthew Watson’s gaze was intense and unreadable, a tangled web of emotions.
Zachary Bailey, whose expression was ashen, cast a subdued glance at the pair. Without a doubt, had he not been there, Matthew would've swept Winona up in his arms and proposed right then and there. A smirk pulled at Zachary's lips as he tossed out a biting taunt, "You planning on hiding behind her, letting her fight your battles?"
Although Matthew wasn’t one for brawling and never believed that violence solved anything, pride etched deep in his bones wouldn’t allow him to shrug off such a challenge.
Taking a step forward, Matthew declared, “I’ve been wanting to punch you for a while now.”
Zachary let out a derisive snort, “The feeling’s mutual.”
Just as fists were about to fly, Winona, with a furrowed brow, grabbed Matthew. “Why lower yourself to his level?”
Her voice was cold with contempt, making even a second glance repulsive.
Wearing a half-smile, Zachary asked, “You’ve been hanging around the doorway the whole time?”
Only timely intervention could have stopped their imminent clash, the way she burst in just as the fight had erupted.
“Yes,” Winona confirmed.
There was no point in hiding it; a quick check of the security footage would give her away.
“Don’t you have anything you want to ask?”
She could've asked why he’d made her believe he was Matthew, why he’d shown up knowing she hadn’t been looking for him, or if the server had relayed her message. Any question would do.
Since that night, Winona had always believed their encounter was coincidental—an alcohol-fueled mistake that had landed them in bed, with no explanation from him.
But Winona simply shook her head. "No."
Zachary squinted at her, a shadow of unrest beneath his brows, "You're not even a bit curious about the reasons?"
"I'm not,” Winona paused, her voice colder than her expression, “because any reason would be just too sordid."
A hush fell over the room…
Standing together, Winona and Matthew faced off against Zachary, who stood just a touch apart. The room was small, so even a slight distance was merely an arm's reach away.
Yet that reachable distance might as well have been a chasm.
Zachary Bailey shrugged, the embodiment of nonchalance. "I mean, it wasn't anything special. You were just so tempting lying there all drunk, I thought I wanted you. But after we did it, it was just...meh. That's why I couldn't bring myself to be interested in you these past three years."
Fuelled with outrage, Winona Sullivan didn't want to waste her breath arguing with him, but that didn't quell her urge to slap him—
"Smack!"
Zachary's head snapped to the side, and Winona, her face contorted with disdain, snarled, "You're absolutely repulsive!"
Her hand, hanging by her side, trembled slightly, the palm burning and flushed red, a testament to her forceful strike.
Zachary touched his cheek where he had been hit. "Still hung up on him? After all these years?"
A wry smile touched Winona's lips as she felt numb, her emotions a storm of disappointment, resentment, disgust, and sorrow. She felt like she'd wasted three years of her life!
Wanting to put an end to this messy charade, she admitted, "Yes, I do like him, and I can't wait to be rid of you so I don't waste another second. I want a divorce."
A semblance of a smile still lingered in her eyes as she added, "If you have any conscience left, you'll grant me that divorce quickly, so I don't delay marrying someone else."
With those words, perhaps to prove her point, she took Matthew Watson's hand.
Watching their hands clasp, Zachary's rage bubbled to the surface, eyes bloodshot with anger. He lunged forward, grabbing Matthew by his collar and pulling him away from Winona, his fist connecting viciously with Matthew's face.
The punch was swift, stern, leaving no chance for evasion.
Zachary's eyes fixated on Matthew's gentlemanly visage, marred now by a brewing storm of defiant rage.
His clenched fist made a soft grinding sound, bones rubbed with barely contained fury...
‘Thud—’
Matthew, lacking combat experience, didn't dodge in time, and the punch landed squarely on his right cheek.
Thrown off-balance but still held by Zachary’s grip, he swung a retaliatory punch.
The two men engaged in a brutal brawl, a chaotic blow-for-blow with no care for defense. The room was a mess, furniture overturned, the discordant clatter of items being smashed.
"Did you fall for her too?" Zachary hissed through clenched teeth, fresh blood on his fists.
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