Chapter 182 Indifference
Carlos' breaths grew labored, "Winona, who told you to get a DNA test? You'd trust a machine over your own father?"
Winona, holding the envelope up to the light above, tried to glimpse the contents through the wrapper: "Are you saying I have a stepfather because of my stepmother, or has there always been a stepfather?"
Taking a deep breath, Carlos replied, "Winona, I know you've had it rough with your stepmom over the years, and you've had your clashes with Layla. It's understandable to harbor some resentment, but you can't let that make you doubt our bond."
"I felt the same way, which is why I got a paternity test. It just so happens you called as I got the results—so let me read them to you," Winona said.
"Winona," Carlos’s voice blurted out, louder than intended, with a tremor at the end.
To make sure he could hear her clearly, Winona tore open the kraft paper envelope she had already unsealed, quickly scanning past the technical jargon to the test results.
"The paternity test shows that Carlos and Winona's DNA match is… percent—"
She paused, choosing not to disclose the number, and hung up the phone. Slowly, she buried her face in her hands, overwhelmed by the revelation.
Their DNA didn't match.
They were not related by blood.
Despite anticipating this result, facing the truth head-on was still something Winona found unbearable.
Leaving the testing center, she hadn't driven far when she got stuck in traffic. All four lanes were jam-packed, an endless sea of red taillights stretching before her.
Restlessly, she swiped through her phone, remembering that she hadn't transferred money to Zachary yet. She opened her banking app and sent over $500,000.
Memo: Repayment of $500,000. Balance owed: $118,500,000.
As she was about to transfer another sum, the traffic inched forward. By the time she stopped and tried to continue, the transaction failed.
The recipient had disabled the card transfer feature.
Staring at the notification and the gridlocked road ahead, Winona's irritation grew. She sighed deeply, dialed Zachary's number, and stated bluntly, "Your card won't accept transfers."
After a long pause, the man casually responded.
"Open it back up, and I'll send you another $500,000," she pressed, unsure if Zachary had disabled the feature himself or if the bank did.
"No time for that."
"You could have your assistant handle it."
"Winona, do you have any idea how valuable my time is? To get tied up with banking for a mere million?"
Dylan quietly observed his boss's showboating. All morning, he wasn't sure who was more distracted, checking their phone incessantly.
Having recently regained his focus, he decided to stay mum on Winona-related matters from now on to avoid getting drawn into trouble.
Barely suppressing the growing anger inside, Winona demanded a solution: "If the transfer doesn't go through, give me another card number."
"If you can't charge it, bring the cash. It's that simple. Do I need to spell it out for you?"
"Take it or leave it." With those final words, Winona hung up and, fuming, chucked her phone onto the passenger seat.
The car inched forward at a snail's pace, and it wasn't until half an hour had passed that she finally escaped the congested stretch of road. Glancing at the time, she drove straight to Matthew's company.
By the time she arrived, it was already half past twelve. She hadn’t had breakfast that morning and was famished, but with the signing scheduled for one o'clock, there was no time to grab a proper meal. She decided to make do with buying a piece of bread for now.
Winona parked her car outside the Watson Group building, and right across the street was a bakery. However, just as she got out of the car, she saw Matthew exiting the front door.
He had just seen someone off, with a polite handshake goodbye at the entrance. Once the person left, Matthew casually scanned the street and caught sight of her.
He seemed surprised and strode towards her, “You're here early?”
“I had some things to take care of this morning, so I came straight over,” she replied.
Matthew had assumed she would be at work and intentionally chose the lunch break to sign the contract. “Let’s go. We can eat and talk. I'll have my secretary bring the contract downstairs.”
Winona said, “That's unnecessary; I can eat after we're done.”
“I haven’t eaten either,” Matthew motioned toward her car parked by the curb, “My car is in for maintenance. Shall we take yours?”
“Sure,” Winona agreed.
As Matthew settled into the car, Winona headed for the driver’s side but suddenly remembered that the appraisal report was still in the passenger seat. The kraft paper bag containing it was torn and practically useless.
She hurried to the driver’s side and opened the door. Matthew was already buckling his seatbelt, and the paternity test report lay conspicuously on the dashboard. Winona couldn’t tell if he had seen the contents.
Sensing her agitation, Matthew turned and asked, “Is everything alright?”
She shook her head and quickly got into the car.
Matthew fitted his phone, running navigation, into the holder on the air vent, “There’s a great French place nearby.”
The French restaurant exuded an air of elegance, with the scent of sophistication wafting through the air. A violin’s melody greeted them as they entered, adding to the ambience..
“Would you prefer the main dining room or private booth?” Matthew asked for her preference.
“The main dining room,” she decided.
A waiter escorted them to a window-side booth amidst the scenery of upscale shopping centers and luxury boutiques, where models posed for street-style photography.
Winona, head down, scanned the menu and was about to order when she briefly noticed new diners at the table beside them – a common enough occurrence in a restaurant.
Lifting her head, she began to place her order with the waiter, “I’ll have the cream of mushroom soup, please,” she said, her voice clear but distracted.
Her words trailed off as she caught sight of Zachary in his smart suit and Stella, dressed to the nines, sitting at the neighboring table. It felt like providence always had a way of orchestrating the most awkward of encounters.
At the adjacent table, a middle-aged man sat with his back to her. Though Winona couldn't discern his expression, she detected disdain in his voice as his addressed Zachery, "Mr. Bailey, why don't we move to a private room? This hall is way too crowded and noisy, ruining my appetite."
Zachary replied indifferently, "No need, this is fine."
The man chuckled, "I thought you young folks preferred peace and quiet. Whenever I take her out for a meal, she always insists on a quiet room. But with Mr. Bailey here, she's been surprisingly accommodating."
Zachary remained silent, his expression aloof.
Stella shot him a reproachful look, her cheeks flushed with bashful irritation, "Dad, what are you talking about?"
The middle-aged man chided, "You're embarrassed? If it weren't for Mr. Bailey stepping in to save you, what would your mother and I do? It would've been the worst kind of loss."
Log in with Google Account
Chapters
Favorite
Settings
