Chapter 148 No Regrets
Since the nurse had been dismissed by Zachary Bailey that morning, no one else had set foot in Room 507. Zachary remained in the same clothes, sitting by the bed, his knuckles scabbed over from wounds that had stopped bleeding. Daylight faded beyond the window until darkness enveloped the room.
Zachary's stillness was unchanging, his occasional blinking the only sign of life – like a statue devoid of vitality.
The faint conversations and footsteps from the hospital corridor seeped through the non-soundproof walls into the silent room, wrapping Zachary in an even more profound solitude, ghostlike.
With nightfall, the corridor fell silent.
Click.
The sharp sound of the door handle echoed through the hushed room. Without opening his eyes or turning his head, Zachary commanded indifferently, "Get out."
But the visitor didn't leave; they entered instead.
A loud bang rang out as a stool was flung aside at the door, followed by a series of crashes and thuds from kicked objects. The steps continued until they stopped by the bed.
Zachary opened his eyes to the figure before him, showing no surprise. "What brings you here?"
Only a few would dare come in at this hour and make such a racket.
Samuel Anderson took a seat beside him – the only spot left to sit – and offered Zachary a cigarette before lighting one for himself. "Think I came by choice? The dean called my secretary, telling me to drag your sorry ass out. If you're gonna die, at least have the decency not to do it in their hospital."
Zachary glanced at the man, now engulfed in smoke, and remarked dryly, "No smoking in the hospital."
"You're one to talk about rules, starting a brawl here? You fight, then refuse treatment, and have everyone running around calling in favors, afraid you’ll die on their watch. And now you're telling me about the no-smoking policy?"
Zachary Bailey glowered with barely concealed malice.
Samuel Anderson sneered, "What's the matter, itching for another round?"
"Get lost..."
Flicking ash from his cigarette, Samuel probed, "So, what's the deal? Why'd you suddenly go at it with Matthew?"
"It's nothing."
His wife was leaving him for another man – his brother of more than a decade. It was the type of humiliation no man would want to admit.
Samuel lifted an eyelid and muttered, "Talk or don't. I'll get a doctor to check you out, and if you're not on death's door, drag yourself to another room. The cleaning crew needs to do their rounds."
He snuffed out his half-smoked cigarette and rose to his feet, adding, "By the way, Fiona's outside."
Zachary frowned, "You brought her?"
"Do I look like I've got time to kill? She was already in the lobby when I got here, has been for who knows how long. You want to see her, I’ll let her in. If not, I'll take her with me when I leave."
Zachary put a cigarette between his lips and lit it with a flick of his lighter.
After a few puffs, he said indifferently, "Let her in."
Raising an eyebrow, Samuel went to fetch her.
Fiona was right outside the door. Learning that Zachary was willing to see her, she entered to see him battered and stained with dried blood, tears spilling down her face, "Zachary."
He didn’t respond, reclining on the bed with his eyes closed, one leg bent on the mattress, the other hanging loosely, a picture of dishevelment.
Fiona approached, "How'd you get hurt like this?"
She reached out, intending to touch the bruise on his cheekbone, but before she could, Zachary opened his eyes and looked at her.
His gaze was frosty, keeping her at bay.
Her concern shattered by his indifference, and just then, Samuel returned with a doctor. Fiona, frustrated, snapped at the nurse following behind, "He’s badly injured, and you don’t treat him? What if something happens? Can your hospital handle the responsibility?"
The nurse, who had been at the receiving end of Zachary’s wrath that morning, felt aggrieved and defended herself in a murmur, "Mr. Bailey refused treatment."
As the doctor treated Zachary’s wounds, the facial bloodstains were wiped away, revealing the true extent of the injuries. One might have thought they'd look better without the blood – less shocking, but that wasn’t the case.
Bruised and swollen, his beaten nose appeared even more ghastly than when blood had smeared his face. Fiona thought the blood served only as a mask.
Zachary Bailey remained stoic as the doctor treated his wounds, showing no sign of pain.
"Where's Winona Sullivan? Your wife isn't here to take care of you with you looking like this?" Fiona asked.
Zachary remained silent, but a nearby nurse couldn't hold her tongue, "Mr. Bailey got all beat up because of Mrs. Sullivan. She's upstairs right now, tending to some other man."
Word about today's incident had already spread throughout the hospital, and the staff briefed her on the trio's backstory.
Zachary opened his eyes, giving the chatty nurse a cold stare.
Seeing this, Fiona couldn't help but chuckling dryly, "She treats you like this, and you're still defending her? Can't even handle someone speaking ill of her?"
Without waiting for a response, she turned and left the hospital room.
Samuel Anderson, who had been engrossed in his phone, looked up, "You're just going to let her go start trouble with Winona Sullivan?"
Silence followed.
Sick of Zachary's deathly expression, Samuel scoffed, "If this blows up, you'll have no one to blame but yourself."
Zachary glanced at him, indifferent, "If you're that bored, go deal with the discharge papers."
"You think I want to meddle in your mess?" Samuel retorted, standing to leave. Just as he reached the door, Fiona's voice echoed, "Winona Sullivan, Zachary's seriously hurt, how dare you bring another man food?"
Fiona had intended to confront her upstairs but, as fate would have it, the elevator doors opened right before her, revealing Winona clutching a meal container.
Winona shot back without missing a beat, "And what right do you have to question me? Are you Zachary Bailey's ex-girlfriend? His mistress? Or perhaps the future Mrs. Bailey?"
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