Chapter 149 Seen with My Own Eyes
Fiona couldn't stand Winona's flippancy and retorted coldly, "I'm just a friend of Zachary's, unlike you. Don't assume everyone else is as unscrupulous as you are. And you and Matthew Watson, well, that's really questionable, isn't it? Just what role are you playing in his care right now?"
She had already gathered the details when passing by the nursing station.
Eyeing the bag in Winona's grasp, "That place is not near the hospital, right? You sure went out of your way—did you even bother to bring anything for Zachary?"
Winona Sullivan was about to snap back when she caught sight of Zachary Bailey stepping out of the hospital room, his injuries now dressed in white gauze.
The words that had haunted her earlier sapped her desire to argue: "Instead of hovering around me like an annoying fly, you should be figuring out how to hold onto him after our divorce, if you're so keen on becoming Mrs. Bailey."
Zachary's gaze fell upon Fiona as he approached and spoke to her, "Let's head out. I'll take you back."
"Sure."
Fiona's eyes, when they glanced Winona's way, were laced with a hint of smugness and disdain. Zachary, it seemed, hadn't spared Winona a single glance. Perhaps this time, it was truly over. No sane man, let alone one with Zachary Bailey's pride, could forgive being cuckolded.
Samuel Anderson had already finished the paperwork and was waiting in the car when Zachary slid into the passenger seat: "Drop Fiona off first."
"What about you? Heading back to Regal Oaks? Come stay at my place tonight instead, I don't like the idea of you being alone."
"No need."
Men didn't bother with small talk; it wasn't worth haggling over if Zachary didn’t want to come.
After dropping off Fiona, Zachary suggested, "Grab a drink?"
"Have you lost your mind? Drinking with your injuries, you in a hurry to die?" Samuel glanced at him and said bluntly, "Your death won't matter; Winona Sullivan won't be mourning you as a widow."
Zachary's expression soured, his frown deepening as his eyes flicked down to Samuel's midsection: "No wonder Julia dumped you."
Men know men, and even the most subtle hints speak volumes. Samuel scoffed, "So it's drinking you want? Let's go then. It's not my life on the line, nor is it my wife remarrying."
"Why don't you go win Julia back then?"
Words cut deep, and Zachary's were like knives twisting in Samuel's chest.
Samuel sneered back, "You've alienated everyone, destined to be a loner. Serves you right to get hit, with no one to grieve for you."
Neither man was one for formalities; they just found a bar along the way.
Zachary was in a foul mood, drinking in sullen silence, glass after glass. No matter how strong a drinker, no one could withstand that kind of torment. Soon enough, drunkenness took hold.
The bar was so loud that conversation required shouting directly into ears to be heard. Samuel Anderson wasn't in the mood for comfort duty, so he let Zachary Bailey drink to his heart's content.
Two hours later, Samuel hauled an intoxicated Zachary back to his empty mansion in Regal Oaks. As he burst out with agitation, "Do I need to hire a bodyguard to keep an eye on you?"
Zachary wasn't completely drunk, just foggy-brained and disinclined to move or open his eyes. He raised an arm to shield his eyes from the glaring lights, "No need, just get out," he slurred.
With a snort, Samuel got up and left without a backward glance.
Stepping out of the house, Samuel rubbed his throbbing temples and turned to his bodyguard, "Go fetch Winona Sullivan."
Zachary was in no state to be alone; he was the type to dislike strangers hovering over him, which explained the absence of live-in staff at his place. The mess was Winona's doing, so naturally, she should be the one to deal with it.
As soon as Samuel's car pulled away, Fiona, already waiting nearby, made her entrance.
She was worried about Zachary's injuries and was aware that no staff would be around at night at Regal Oaks. With Winona no longer living there, Fiona drove over.
The bodyguard by the door recognized her and not only let her in but also greeted her with a nod.
...
Winona Sullivan was brought back to Regal Oaks by a bodyguard straight from her own bed, which explained why she was still in her pajamas. Thankfully, the long sleeves and trousers of her winter pajamas were modest enough to avert any concern about indecent exposure.
"Did Zachary Bailey send for you?" she had asked several times on the drive, but the impassive bodyguard kept silent until they arrived at their destination. Tired of her questioning, he finally relented, "Ma'am, Mr. Bailey's drunk and needs to be watched over for safety."
"So, he lets himself get drunk and you're still worried about his safety," Winona snapped, managing to slip away from the guard's grip and making for the exit.
The bodyguard caught her arm firmly, "Ma'am, you're headed the wrong way."
Winona wondered if he was doing it on purpose. Her intent to leave was crystal clear, and there he was, telling her she was going the wrong way. But his earnest demeanor made her second-guess – maybe he was just that stoic.
Regardless of her thoughts, the bodyguard didn't let go of her for the rest of the journey.
It was only when they reached the villa's entrance that he released her, "Ma'am, please go inside. We cannot enter without being summoned."
Winona Sullivan had no choice but to enter; the burly guard wasn't letting her leave. She used her fingerprint to unlock the door with a scowl, pushed open the door, and was struck by the scene inside before she could fully step in.
The darkness didn't mask everything; the door ajar let in a sliver of light from behind, casting faint outlines across the space stretching from the entryway to the living room.
Clothes lay scattered on the floor, a jumbled mess of men's and women's clothing hinting at the night's events.
Stunned at the sight that greeted her upon entering, Winona stared, frozen in place, not alone in her shock — the guard who had escorted her here was equally taken aback.
A rustle came from the living room, whereupon Fiona sat up from the couch.
Her body was mostly hidden, save for the bare stretch of skin from neck to shoulder, exposed to their view.
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