Chapter 174 Time for a Fresh Start
Crouching down, she inspected the sealed grave and spun around, glaring at the man behind her. "Zachary Bailey cut the crap!" she snapped indignantly.
Her words caused Zachary's eyebrows to furrow. "Winona Sullivan, watch your tone."
That she could even use such foul language was appalling.
"I'm just giving you a piece of my mind. The fact that I haven't laid hands on you already shows restraint," she said, barely able to contain her fury. "Open up the grave; I'm taking my granddad with me."
"The grave's already been sealed. Do you want to reopen it? How many times do you want to disturb your granddad's peace in death? Is this your idea of respect?" he retorted, his eyes filled with mockery.
Zachary continued, his tone laced with accusation, "You talk about respect, yet back in Silverton, you complained about the poor condition of your granddad's resting place and planned a transfer. Then you went off joyfully traveling with another man. Even you must be embarrassed to call yourself respectful."
Winona brushed off his sarcasm, her voice firm. "I can't bury him here."
This plot belonged to the Bailey family; reserved for their kin. She had no intention of remarrying Zachary, so how could she let her grandfather rest among them? "He always wanted to return to his roots."
"He worked in New York for nearly twenty years. Your mother is buried there. Isn't that returning to his roots?" Zachary’s eyes bore into hers. "Or do you still want to move him to Silverton? Can you stay with him daily? With Melissa's character, aren't you afraid she'll dig up the grave the moment you leave?"
"Or should I move your mother's grave here, too? Would that satisfy you?"
Though Zachary's argument lacked coherence, Winona’s resolve softened. She couldn't keep relocating her grandfather's remains just because she felt like to; the last place was bleak, but this spot was serene and convenient.
She knew she couldn't find a better location even with a hefty sum.
Samuel Anderson interjected at the right moment, his voice calm but authoritative “Miss Sullivan, Walter’s burial here was also discussed with Isaac.”
He paused for effect before continuing, "Forgive my frankness, but there's nothing you can change about this situation now. You might as well accept it. It's not like you'll be the only one feeling awkward at graveside visits in the future."
Zachary scowled at Samuel. “Why are you still here?”
Samuel replied calmly, "I'm helping you win back your wife. Is it that hard for you to express your love to Winona?"
Winona Sullivan glanced up at Zachary Bailey, her expression unreadable.. He met her gaze with a cold indifference that seemed to permeate the air around them.
Two days after the grave relocation, Christmas arrived, typically a time of family joy. However, Fiona Clark hadn't returned to spend it with her mother; she sat alone in her rented apartment nursing a drink. A tablet lay before her, displaying a photo of Winona Sullivan at the lakeside, undoing Zachary Bailey's belt. In the image, the soaked man gazed down at Winona with tender eyes, though Fiona couldn't see them, she could imagine the depth of affection they must have held.
The television in the background was tuned to a talk show, its lively banter contrasting sharply with the eerie silence of the apartment, which felt as lonely as a tomb. Fiona shook her head, feeling slightly dizzy, and grabbed her phone from the couch, and dialed Zachary Bailey's number.
After a few rings, Zachary answered, his voice aloof. "What's up?"
Sitting crookedly against the sofa, Fiona Clark spoke sluggishly, "Zachary, can you come keep me company? I'm all alone, and Winona won't answer my calls. She's still mad at me."
Though her words were disjointed, Zachary understood and, after a brief silence, inquired, "Have you been drinking?"
"Yeah."
"I'll send your agent over."
"I don't want them," Fiona Clark interjected sharply, "I want you, Zachary Bailey, don't you dare fob me off on someone else. I can't go home right now, and you owe me that."
Regretted her outbursts, Fiona hastily apologized, "Sorry, Zachary, it's just the booze talking."
Tears began to stream down her cheeks as she spoke softly, the sobs grating to the ear, "I'm not blaming you, I'm just... so lonely. Everyone's gathering with their families today, and I'm all alone."
"Where are you?" Zachary cut her off abruptly.
"Home." Fiona began to give her address, but the line went dead.
Half an hour later, there was a firm knock on the door.
Barefoot and unsteady, Fiona approached the door and swung it open. Standing there, as she expected, was Zachary Bailey.
Clad entirely in black; his presence was sharp and commanding, like a sword drawn from its sheath.
"Zachary," she started, but before she could manage a smile, he brushed past her and entered without pausing to take off his shoes or glance at Fiona.
Clenching the doorknob tightly for a long moment, Fiona finally closed the door and made her way back to the living room.
As she walked by, Zachary Bailey was scrolling through his phone, lounging on the couch. From her vantage point, she couldn't help but catch a glimpse of his screen.
Her forced smile vanished instantly, "You'd rather play games than talk to me now?" she challenged.
Zachary remained focused on his phone without looking up or responding to her inquiry. "You should go to sleep. I'll stay here with you tonight."
"Are you still hung up on Winona Sullivan?" In her frantic state, exacerbated by alcohol, she grabbed Zachary's collar aggressively—a move she'd never make sober, along with such a self-degrading accusation—"Zachary, you're divorced. She didn't want you then; she sure doesn't want you now."
"Can we start over? I'm not leaving this time." Fiona dropped to one knee on the couch, her head spinning, the room swirling with images of Zachary, all cold and expressionless.
Tears streamed down her cheeks as she stared at those unmoving faces, droplets falling onto Zachary's chest like beads off a broken string. "I have no father left. It was your damn hand gripping mine as you lay there injured that made him worry, made him drive through the night to get me, which led to the accident... to his death. I just want to be with you. Can't you even agree to that?"
The mention of the past deepened the hue of guilt in Zachary's eyes, softening his demeanor. "Fiona, I've said, if you want compensation, I can give you money."
But before he could finish, Fiona cupped his face, desperate and resolved, leaning in for a kiss.
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