Chapter 198 No Going Back
Under the scrutiny of three sets of eyes, each conveying a different sentiment, Winona Sullivan felt a touch of awkwardness "It's manageable."
The discussion seemed to have ended, as nobody spoke up again; even Stella had stopped her wailing.
Just as Winona was about to stand and leave, Zachary Bailey's grip on her tightened, keeping her firmly in place.
With a clenched jaw and throbbing veins on his forehead, Mitchell called out to the servants in the kitchen, "Bring a glass of hot water."
Stella recoiled at the sight of her father, his eyes red with anger. "Dad, what are you going to do?"
Deep down, she felt certain that the hot water wasn't for her. After all, her father cherished her so much that he would fume over a mere scratch on her hand. Nevertheless, she couldn't shake off a shiver as she looked at his angry taut-faced.
The servant, thinking the master needed to drink, quickly poured a cup of water that had just boiled, steam curling up from it delicately.
Mitchell slapped the coffee table, his voice tense with fury, "Stella put your hands up here."
Stella's eyes widened in disbelief as she let out a panicked shriek, "Dad!"
"Put them up," Mitchell's voice rose before returning to its usual gentle tone, though the quiver at the end exposed his barely contained restraint, "Dad will cover your eyes for you. If you've done wrong, you must own up to it. Don't be scared, Stella, your dad is here with you."
"I don't want to! My hands are for playing the piano. If they get burned, all my years of hard practice will be ruined!"
Stella spun around to run but was firmly grasped by Mitchell, who pulled her back to the coffee table and pinned her left hand down on the glass surface.
One hand held her captive, while Mitchell reached for a cup. The cup had a handle, but he didn't grab it there; instead, he wrapped his bare hand around the scorching hot side of the cup.
Winona Sullivan's burnt fingers twitched involuntarily as the cup that Stella had knocked over—one that had been sitting out for a while—had already caused her pain, let alone this freshly boiled one that was obviously much hotter, even through the wall of the cup.
For some reason, her eyes felt inexplicably warm.
At least Stella had a father who loved her, much like Carlos once did.
Winona Sullivan stood up, her mood visibly downcast, "Forget it."
She turned and walked away, paying no mind to Zachary Bailey, who remained seated on the couch.
Zachary Bailey watched her retreat, clenching his jaw. Moments later, he rose, his face expressionless, and left.
As soon as they were gone, Mitchell could no longer hold onto the searing cup in his hand, and it dropped straight onto the carpet...
Back in the car, Winona Sullivan's mood was evidently subdued. With her eyes half-closed, she had an air of refusing to converse.
Zachary Bailey's voice was cool and obviously displeased with her abrupt departure earlier, "Not happy?"
"Are you unhappy with how I treated her, or are you just unhappy that I stood up for you?"
Winona Sullivan opened her eyes, her fatigue undisguised, and she spoke with a lack of energy, "Thank you."
Zachary Bailey was silent; he did want a thank-you from Winona Sullivan, but it wasn't just about being thanked.
He pursed his lips, and after a long pause, said stiffly, "Brian, take the lady back."
"Will do."
Winona Sullivan opened her mouth, intending to correct his form of address, but Zachary Bailey had already closed his eyes, and Brian was focused on the road. So she closed her mouth again.
It was just a title after all. No one really cared, and perhaps Zachary Bailey had said it without thinking.
...
In the days that followed, Winona Sullivan was slammed with work. Having just started at a new place, she was navigating a fresh social landscape at the museum—a place rife with intrigue and more complex interactions than at View Studio. After clocking out, she'd rush to Matthew Watson's company for design proposal workshops, returning home to crank out design drafts and tackle a backlog of freelance gigs. She was running herself ragged, barely touching the ground.
She hadn't seen Zachary Bailey since. Whether the novelty had simply worn off or she was too swamped with her routine to cross paths with him, she couldn't tell.
One evening, after working overtime past nine, her car was at the shop for repairs from a minor collision with a flower bed due to driving while exhausted a couple of days prior.
Matthew had offered to pick her up, but Rebecca Davis was nearby, having dinner, and had agreed to give Winona a ride.
As soon as Winona got into the car, Rebecca handed her a takeout box, "Brought you some late-night bites. Eat it while it's hot."
"Rebecca, you're an absolute lifesaver."
Winona would have kissed her right there and then, if only she weren't behind the wheel.
The intense focus from the long hours had revved up her metabolism—despite having dinner only at six, she was famished.
"Oh, there's something I've got to tell you. That dog Zachary Bailey—no, I mean Mr. Bailey transferred 8 million dollars to me."
Winona lifted her head from the meal box, cheeks puffed like a chipmunk, food muffled her words, "He's chasing after you?"
When a man sends a woman money like that—8 million dollars—her worn-out brain could only jump to that one conclusion.
Rebecca rolled her eyes in exasperation: "I'm driving here, try to spare my feelings a bit. Don't give me a scare. Four and a half million of that's to pay you back, and the other half a million's for changing how I address him."
She admitted, somewhat sheepishly, "I wanted to stand my ground, really, but the amount was just… too much. So, I caved in. I can't call him ‘that dog’ anymore."
Silence filled the car.
"He didn't just pay me back. He settled my relatives' debts, too, and threw in a tidy sum with interest. Now my friends and family are calling me daily, like clockwork, to see if I need to borrow money."
More silence.
Of the ten million that Matthew Watson had advanced to her, aside from the initial one and a half million, the rest was still untouched in her bank account.
Seeing Winona silent, Rebecca thought she was moved "I bet he's cooking up some grand gesture. After all, he and Fiona are through for good. Maybe being hit hard made him realize your worth, thinking of circling back to you."
She wasn't sure if Winona Sullivan still had feelings for Zachary Bailey, but she couldn't bear to see her best friend being mistreated "If you're still into him and you want to be with him, don't agree too easily. Make him learn his lesson; otherwise, before you know it, another Fiona Lee or Fiona Gao will pop up, and his wandering eyes will be on the move again."
Winona Sullivan buried her head back into her late-night snack and asked, "What happened between him and Fiona?"
"Fiona let some old guy in his sixties grope her all over for some favors. Funny enough, I was caught by my dad that day to accompany him to this business event, and I ended up seeing a third of it unfold. Not only does that old man lack decency and love to leave the door open, but he's also brazen. If that weren't enough, he invited Zachary Bailey. You can imagine how foul Zachary's expression was; he couldn't stand being there for more than five minutes and stormed out."
This juicy piece of gossip slowed Winona's chewing.
With Zachary's fiery temper, wouldn't he have put that old man in a condition that would leave him bedridden for the rest of his life?
She asked, "And what happened after that?"
"Well, Mr. Bailey has been paying off your debt, hasn't he? By his demeanor, he doesn't seem to want the three billion back and has even added to it. It looks like he's aiming for a reconciliation. Given his status, he surely wouldn't turn back to a tainted woman like Fiona after witnessing that night's event. Who knows what else she has been up to before."
Winona Sullivan replied, "I appreciate it, you know?"
Not going back to Fiona meant coming back to her?
That wasn't a flattering comparison.
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