Chapter 197 Does It Still Hurt?
Winona Sullivan lifted her unscathed hand, pinching the bridge of her nose, her patience apparently at its limit and on the verge of collapse, "Yes, so to prevent them from harming you further, stay away from me."
Zachary Bailey "So that’s your real intention, huh? Stella, offending the mighty Winona, it’s just an excuse for me to stay away from you."
Annoyed, Winona no longer cared about the pain and turned the water off abruptly and left.
The waiter arrived at that moment with the burn ointment, but Winona didn’t even glance at it and walked away.
Zachary Bailey grabbed the ointment and, without looking, pulled out a few hundred-dollar bills from his wallet and handed them to the waiter.
In the hall, Stella was gone, and the toppled drink station had been tidied up.
Winona Sullivan strode quickly toward the door and was hit by a blast of cold air, reminding her that she'd left without her coat. She hesitated, weighing whether to turn back or head straight for her car.
In that brief moment, Zachary Bailey caught up from behind, and despite her resistance, he bundled her into the car.
He rattled off an address to Brian.
Winona didn't recall him owning property there—it must be a recent purchase. But they were divorced now, his acquisitions were none of her business.
"I drove here. Let me out," she frowned.
"Give your keys to Brian. He'll bring your car back tomorrow," Zachary Bailey said, scanning the burn ointment instructions under the dome light. "Hand."
"I can do it myself," protested Winona Sullivan.
The car's heating was on, blowing warm air on her scalded fingers, reigniting the pain that briefly subsided, each second stretching into an agonizing eternity.
He draped his overcoat on Winona, instructed Brian to turn off the heating, and rolled down the windows. After all this, he started applying the ointment to her fingers.
The car's warmth was instantly replaced by the bone-chilling draught.
His fingertips brushed her skin while treating the burn, causing Winona to wince and pull back her hand.
"Stay still," Zachary Bailey commanded, holding her wrist.
Where the ointment touched, cool relief spread. Head bowed in concentration, he focused intently on her fingers. She only had to glance down to see his sharp profile softened and warmed by the car's dim light.
She watched his face for several seconds before averting her gaze.
The address Zachary gave was the Chen family mansion.
Mitchell had rushed home after receiving the call, arriving just moments before them, already briefed over the phone.
Firstly, he eyed Winona's hand, relieved to see no blisters, only mild redness. Then, turning, he ordered a servant with visible anger, "Please bring the young lady down."
Then to them apologetically, "Mr. Bailey, Mrs. Sullivan, please have a seat. Stella will be down shortly. I assure you she will apologize to Mrs. Sullivan in person."
Stella took her time coming downstairs, reluctantly, her ego bruised by Zachary making a spectacle of her at the party, where he'd thrown her onto the drink station. And now, she'd barely gotten back before he showed up at her door.
For a grown man to be so petty with a woman.
She was feeling a bit panicked at first, but when she saw that Winona Sullivan's hand was fine after descending the stairs, the anxiety dissipated.
She wasn't hurt, so it wasn't like I was going to start hitting her.
Mitchell scolded with a stern face, "Aren't you going to apologize to Mrs. Sullivan? I've obviously spoiled you too much, letting you cause trouble everywhere without a sense of measure or respect."
Stella was so startled by her father's shout that she jumped. He had never been harsh with her before, and now he was berating her for a stranger's sake.
That Winona Sullivan really had it in for her!
Utterly insincere, she muttered, "Sorry," not even glancing at Winona's way.
Zachary Bailey's eyes fell on her, and compared to the hardness in the banquet hall, they seemed immeasurably gentler now. Yet Stella felt a sudden tightness in her chest, and her body involuntarily shivered.
His gaze was mechanical, devoid of emotional fluctuation as if he were observing an inanimate object rather than a living person.
She felt like, in his eyes, she was something so rigid that not even a false revival could stir.
Under Zachary Bailey's forceful demeanor, Stella was pressured into apologizing again, this time with much more sincerity.
Mitchell attempted to smooth things over, "Stella's just been spoiled by me. She's learned her lesson this time. Fortunately, Mrs. Sullivan's hand injury is not severe. She definitely won't dare to be so willful again. How about this, Mr. Bailey, Mrs. Sullivan, when you have the time, I will host you both and formally apologize to Mrs. Sullivan."
Zachary Bailey's lips curled into a faint smile, but the amusement didn't reach his eyes, and his voice was cool, making people feel uneasy, "So at Mr. Mitchell's word, a light apology simply erases a wrongdoing."
Mitchell's face tinted slightly, then suddenly he stood up, raised his hand, and slapped Stella!
The 'smack' echoed through the spacious living room; even the servants bustling in the kitchen were startled. The young lady had always been imperious and her father indulgent, never speaking a harsh word to her – such a scene was unprecedented.
Stella was shocked by the slap, her ears ringing, her vision blackening momentarily.
That slap by Mitchell was even more forceful than Zachary Bailey's at the banquet, the taste of blood rich in her mouth, a warm and metallic liquid seeping from her gums.
"Dad..." Stella, clutching her burning face, let out a sharp cry, "Her hand was fine, wasn't it? How could you hit me so hard over someone so unimportant? Am I not your own daughter?"
Mitchell ignored her, his gaze shifting toward Winona Sullivan. "Mrs. Sullivan, are you satisfied now?"
Winona Sullivan knew exactly what Zachary Bailey meant, but she wasn't keen on being indebted to him. "You should probably ask Mr. Bailey that question, Mr. Mitchell. After all, I was more or less dragged here."
Zachary Bailey tightened his grip around her waist and shot her a warning glance. Since they had arrived, he had maintained that possessive stance.
Upon hearing this, Mr. Mitchell looked over at Zachary Bailey, fully aware that Winona Sullivan was hardly in control of the situation. He asked her out of courtesy because she was the victim of the incident, and Mr. Bailey still seemed to take an interest in her. "Mr. Bailey, I’ve already apologized, and Stella has recognized her fault. Besides a bit of redness, Mrs. Sullivan doesn't seem to have any serious injuries. Can we consider the matter closed?"
Zachary Bailey remained expressionless, his demeanor untouchable and superior. He replied coolly, "If Mr. Mitchell thinks it's settled, then it's settled. Stella is your daughter, Mr. Mitchell. As an outsider who holds no importance, I have neither the obligation nor the right to discipline her for you."
Mitchell mulled over Zachary Bailey's words, turning them over in his mind numerous times, but he still couldn't quite grasp his intent.
The man showed no intention of leaving, nor of pursuing the matter further, which only confused Mitchell more.
Zachary Bailey glanced indifferently at Winona Sullivan's hand, now covered in ointment. "Does it still hurt?"
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