Chapter 172 Zachary Bailey's Calculated Intentions
From the break of dawn, Lydia had been lost in her thoughts. As she spotted Zachary Bailey preparing to depart, she inquired with a sense of urgency, "Where might you be off to?"
"To the office," came his curt response.
The Bailey Group would not be observing the holiday until the following day. Two debriefing meetings were on the day's agenda, and Zachary's presence was mandatory.
Lydia watched his retreating figure with a scowl, her annoyance palpable. "Then, at least, fetch Winona later. The poor girl is all alone in that apartment; she must be feeling quite isolated."
Recalling how Winona Sullivan had adamantly refused to return the previous night, Zachary's demeanor turned even colder. "If she doesn't feel lonely, it's not your concern."
Lydia, her frustration reaching a boiling point, retorted, "Whoever ends up marrying you is in for a world of disappointment. Your emotional intelligence? You've clearly inherited it from your father."
With Zachary's refusal to budge, Lydia took it upon herself to resolve the situation. Dialing Winona Sullivan's number, she pondered the best way to coax her into coming over. The call connected.
"Winona, where are you at the moment?"
"On a trip? With who? Where are you headed?"
"You, Rebecca, and a high school friend? Well, enjoy your break. Have fun and return when you're ready." Lydia activated the speakerphone and transferred a million dollars to Winona via her mobile banking app. "Yellow Mountain in the neighboring city? Alright, have a great time."
After ending the call, Lydia turned her gaze to Zachary, who was lingering near the entrance. "Didn't you say you were heading to the office? Why are you still here? She doesn't need you to fetch her. Get a move on, finish your work, and make sure you're back early for dinner."
Zachary Bailey averted his eyes, concealing the storm brewing within, and asked with his usual composure, "Who is she with?"
"Rebecca and one of her high school friends, why?"
"No reason."
With that, Zachary Bailey exited, closing the door behind him.
Under typical circumstances, the drive from New York to the neighboring city would take just over four hours. However, the holiday traffic extended Austin's drive to a grueling seven hours.
The hotel had been pre-booked online by Rebecca Davis. Austin's unexpected addition to the group necessitated a last-minute room addition.
Fortunately, Rebecca had planned it ahead. As they approached the service desk, a 'No Vacancy' sign sat prominently on the countertop.
After a few hours of rest in their respective rooms, the trio decided to explore the nearby Chinatown and grab a bite to eat. It was a mere fifteen-minute walk from the hotel.
While Winona Sullivan and Rebecca Davis were engrossed in a jewelry store, comparing earrings, Austin, uninterested in such feminine trinkets, stood smoking at the entrance.
That's when Zachary Bailey called.
Winona glanced at the phone, her brow furrowed, and answered, "What's up?"
The cacophony of the crowd made it hard to hear; Zachary Bailey said something about her grandfather's grave, but Winona Sullivan didn't quite catch it.
She looked at Rebecca Davis, gestured to her phone, and then pointed outside.
Rebecca gave her a nod. "Be careful."
Their shop was located at the end of the street, a quiet area devoid of foot traffic. Winona didn't venture far. "What were you saying?"
"The shaman has everything prepared. We'll return tomorrow to show Grandpa the new site for his grave. I've booked a flight to Silverton at six in the morning. Ensure your bags are packed," Zachary replied.
Winona fell silent.
She had a hunch that Zachary was orchestrating this intentionally.
"The shaman merely had to find a suitable location. We'll have to pick a date for the relocation, but as his granddaughter, you should be there to see the spot and give your approval. Unless you'd prefer Melissa to handle it?"
"That can wait until I get back," Winona responded.
Melissa would never consent to the exhumation; she didn't want to instigate any drama that could potentially upset their grandfather.
Zachary's voice, laced with a hint of anger so subtle it was almost imperceptible, echoed through the phone, "The shaman's fully booked. Tomorrow is his only available slot."
Winona responded, her tone steady with a hint of sarcasm, "Then we'll need to find another. This is a matter concerning my family; your concern is not required." She meant every word; she was no longer interested in being indebted to him. Their divorce had severed their ties, and there was no need for them to become entangled over such a trivial matter.
She had anticipated many reactions from Zachary - anger, sarcasm, even accusations of ingratitude - but she hadn't expected him to abruptly end the call.
After sliding her phone back into her pocket, Winona turned around, only to find herself surrounded by a group of thugs who seemed to have materialized out of thin air. One of them sneered, "Sweetheart, that's a fancy bag you've got there. How about you let us take a peek?"
Winona, ever the pragmatist, knew better than to provoke them. She was about to surrender her bag when the thug nearest to her was suddenly sent flying.
It was Austin.
He had trailed behind Winona when she left, and upon seeing her engrossed in a phone call, he had taken the opportunity to visit the restroom. He hadn't anticipated emerging to find a gang of miscreants attempting to rob her.
"The hell…" the thug on the ground howled in agony, "Get him!"
Winona, well aware of Austin's capabilities, quickly retreated to avoid getting caught in the crossfire.
As he fended off the remaining thugs, Austin found a moment to ask, "Who were you talking to on the phone?"
Without giving it much thought, Winona answered, "Zachary Bailey."
Austin fell silent.
A glint of metal caught his eye and he instantly recognized it for what it was. He could have easily dodged the incoming attack, but he chose to remain still.
A sharp hiss cut through the air.
The blade sliced through the fabric of his shirt, grazing the skin beneath, leaving a bloody gash across his chest.
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