Chapter 177 Fed Up
Fiona Clark's heart raced. The internet was abuzz with rumors of her and Zachary Bailey being a couple. This publicity had cemented her celebrity status within the industry. But now, Zachary was planning to issue a clarification.
It was an outright denial. The overwhelming 'congratulations' flooding social media was the work of paid followers.
"Zachary, no one takes this gossip to heart," Fiona protested. "Give it a few days, and the buzz will fade. If you release a statement now, it will only draw more attention."
The PR manager, still on the line, had heard Fiona's voice. With Mr. Bailey being a divorcee, even if the media caught him with Miss Clark, it wouldn't likely shake the company's stock value. Letting the hype die down naturally seemed like a viable option.
Zachary Bailey ignored her, "Which media outlet leaked the news last night? Take legal steps to sue them."
Fiona turned pale; her voice strained. “Zachary, let’s drop it. I’m trying to break into the entertainment industry. I can’t afford to alienate the media right now.”
Even though she hadn’t commissioned the reporters, if they got sued, they’d harbor ill will. While they wouldn’t dare retaliate against Zachary Bailey, they would take it out on her. It would take no effort – simply ignoring her was enough to stifle any potential rise to fame, regardless of her standing in the dance community.
"Do as I instructed," Zachary insisted, his tone firm.
After hanging up, he glanced at Fiona's ashen face. "Actions have consequences. Some media outlets, desperate for clicks, ignore the facts and truth, shamelessly sensationalizing false news to attract attention."
Fiona suspected he was alluding to her. She had seen the articles last night and knew she was behind the paid fans that fueled the fake romance.
Fearful of giving herself away, she said nothing more. Her phone vibrated incessantly in her hand with messages from her agent. Because of recent events, Emily had grown quite disillusioned with her. They had quarreled not long ago, and things had turned sour, neither of them reaching out since.
The car drove on for over ten minutes. Noticing the bustling streets outside, Fiona couldn't help but speak up, "Zachary, this isn’t the way to the cemetery."
"Yeah, I'm taking you home," he responded.
"But you promised to visit my dad’s grave."
Zachary Bailey did not explain, uttering just two words: "I'm sorry."
The streets of New York lay empty, with only the occasional car passing by. Winona Sullivan drove slowly, yet the usual hour-long journey took her less than forty minutes.
Exiting the elevator, Winona found Zachary Bailey, who had smoked two cigarettes, already waiting at her door.
Winona's brow furrowed at the harsh scent of smoke lingering in the air, but she said nothing.
Zachary's gaze fixed on her aloof and indifferent face. "The photo that leaked in the news—it's just about the angle. There's nothing between me and Fiona Clark. Last night was the anniversary of her father's passing."
Unfazed, Winona responded, her voice steady and unwavering, "Whether it's true or not, it doesn't concern me. My anger today is all about Lydia, not about whether you slept with Fiona Clark." She caught herself, almost slipping up and referring to Lydia in a more familial term.
His eyes darkened, a storm brewing behind them. "Her father died on his way to see her. I was unconscious, injured—"
"Zachary Bailey, I don't care. I'm not interested in how her father died. I just want you to stay out of my sight. And if we cross paths by some misfortune, please act like a stranger."
But her heart was anything but calm.
At the very least, the mere mention of Zachary’s intention to visit Fiona Clark's father's grave, stirred sometime profound within her.
She thought about her grandfather, her mother.
In their three years of marriage, he, as her husband, had never visited their graves.
His blatant favoritism toward Fiona Clark only served to underscore the fragility of their marriage. Perhaps the absence of any real comparison that made her divorce from Zachary so straightforward—filled with resignation, disappointment, lost love. Never before had she felt such a strong aversion to even glance his way.
Zachary's lips tightened into a thin line, his frustration simmering beneath the surface.
Winona's disinterest and unwillingness to engage were painfully obvious. From the moment she stepped off the elevator, she gave him only a fleeting glance, a brief eye contact. She didn’t even spare a glance at his Adam’s apple.
As she unlocked her door, Winona muttered, without looking up, "On your way out, please take the trash with you."
Zachary's expression turned cold. He reached out, grabbed Winona by the arm, and pulled her toward the elevator. "Come with me,” he demanded.
The moment his hand clasped hers, a visceral disgust washed over Winona. She tried to wrench away her hand fiercely, but he was too strong, not allowing her any chance to escape.
Winona Sullivan found herself wedged into the car, with Zachary leaning in to fasten the seatbelt. Their faces were uncomfortably close, almost close enough to kiss.
Despite the proximity, Winona felt nothing but a hollow emptiness, her mind drifting elsewhere.
Zachary Bailey turned just in time to catch her unfocused gaze, his heart squeezing tight. He reached out, cupping her face to steer her attention back to him.
"You left Fiona Clark's perfume lingering in your car," Winona remarked dryly, her voice cutting through the tension like a knife.
Zachary's words lodged in his throat. After a moment, he pressed his lips together and said, "I'll have Dylan Collins take care of this car. Where's yours? Let's take it."
He hadn't detected any perfume scent, but a car swap was a minor concession if Winona pointed it out.
Winona aimed to push him away, but Zachary seemed unphased, his usually thick skin growing even more impenetrable as his mood lightened. "No need. Just drive, where to?"
Zachary’s persistence was something she'd witnessed before. Rather than wasting time bickering, she chose to acquiesce.
They drove for over two hours, the city fading behind them as they ventured into suburbs and then the mountains, the landscape changing dramatically with each mile.
Winona sat in tense silence, her frustration simmering beneath the surface, itching to lash out.
The mountain housed a resort she'd never visited, though she'd seen it on travel websites. The car wound its way up the twisting road, the unchanging scenery slowly lulling her to sleep.
Waking as dusk approached, the car was parked at the resort, though for how long she didn't know. Realizing her head rested oddly, she looked up to find it had been on Zachary's shoulder.
Frowning out the window, she asked, "Why did you bring me here?" she asked, her voice tinged with annoyance.
"To watch fireworks," Zachary replied, stepping out of the car, his expression unreadable.
He moved to the trunk, fetching a variety of fireworks.
It had been ages since Winona indulged in such childish amusements. She watched through the rearview mirror as Zachary unloaded the pyrotechnics, her brows furrowed in silent. Why trave all this way for fireworks in this chilly weather? Did the wealthy always have this much idle time?
After setting down the fireworks, Zachary returned to open the passenger door. "Didn't you once say you wanted to set off fireworks with me? I'm making that wish come true. Come on out."
Winona hesitated, her breath forming mist in the cold air, "When did I ever say I wanted to set off fireworks with you?"
"It was your birthday wish," he reminded her.
This time, Winona Sullivan was at a loss for words. "Zachary, making a birthday wish is just a tradition; it's something you say in the moment."
Even if she had made that wish before, she no longer wanted to fulfill it.
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