Chapter 279: Both People and Dogs Despise
Rebecca shot a withering look at Zachary. "Why don't you ask your ex-husband how he managed to become universally detested?"
Zachary's retort got caught in his throat, leaving him speechless.
Seeing him so frustrated for the first time, Winona found it somewhat amusing and couldn't help but curl her lips. "Maybe he just likes being that kind of person."
Rebecca's gaze fell on Winona's swollen ankle, and she frowned. "How did you get such a bad sprain? Have you seen a doctor?"
As she moved to support Winona, her gaze fell on a conspicuous pile of liquor bottles—an assortment ranging from outrageously expensive to dirt cheap. Given Winona's typical abstinence from alcohol, it wasn't hard for Rebecca to deduce who had likely instigated the drinking session.
Just as Rebecca was about to look away, she caught sight of a familiar bottle out of the corner of her eye. She exclaimed and walked over to pick it up. "Did he give you this?"
Zachary had brought an eclectic mix of drinks the previous night, perhaps unsure of her preferences, so he opted for a bit of everything. Winona, with her limited knowledge of alcohol, had gravitated towards the low-alcohol cocktails. Seeing the somber look on Rebecca’s face, Zachary’s worry deepened. "Is there something wrong with the drink?"
Rebecca’s disdainful glare met his. "Not exactly with the drink, but it has aphrodisiac effects. It’s typically used in bars to spice things up, usually a bartender’s secret mix. It’s not sold outside except as bar takeaway."
She recognized it because she’d seen it packed at a bar before, the same telltale bottle.
"Mr. Bailey, youfrequent clubs more often than most for business dinners. I’m sure you’ve come across this drink before."
Rebecca's words almost outright called him despicable.
Zachary’s expression darkened upon hearing the drink’s effects.
So Winona’s response last night was drug-induced, not genuine.
He looked at Winona. Her face was an unreadable mask, but it was evident she believed he had orchestrated this.
"I didn't know," Zachary hastily defended, then realized how flimsy it sounded. He added, "Dylan ordered the drinks."
Even as he spoke, he knew it sounded like a pathetic excuse. Dylan worked for him, and any drinks ordered would naturally carry his implicit endorsement.
But saying nothing wasn’t an option either. This additional misunderstanding could be the final nail in the coffin of any lingering chance he had with Winona.
"If I really had any intentions, you were so drunk last night, and..." He trailed off, perhaps out of guilt or remembering Winona's responses, his voice softened. "I wouldn’t have just held you and slept."
Winona couldn't remember much of last night, but Zachary’s expression and tone hinted at some truths. Not wanting him to say anything more compromising, she snapped, "Shut up."
Zachary's half-open mouth snapped shut instantly, leaving him looking almost comically aggrieved.
Winona slumped into the wheelchair, massaging her throbbing temples. No wonder she felt wretched and weak this morning. She had attributed it to an uncomfortable night on the couch and possibly catching a cold. Now she understood the true reason.
"Rebecca, let's go."
Rebecca deftly pushed Winona toward the door. As they approached Zachary, he stepped forward, momentarily hesitant. "If you don't believe me, call Dylan. I only asked him to send drinks; I had no idea what he chose. I’ve never ordered that particular drink and didn’t intend anything… untoward."
Had Zachary known the repercussions, he would have willingly imbibed the suspect drink himself.
Winona didn't know what he was thinking. "Dylan works for you. Asking him is no different from asking you. I don't want to talk to you right now. Shut up."
With a wounded expression, Zachary watched Winona's fury and reframed himself from further interference, fearful that another misstep would land him irrevocably on her blacklist.
As soon as they left, he dialed Dylan's number.
Dylan, unaware of his imminent doom, answered brightly, "Mr. Bailey!"
Zachary cut straight to the chase. "Where did you get the drinks last night?"
"Night Club," Dylan replied chipperly, recalling that Mr. Bailey had asked for a mixed assortment, including cocktails popular with women. "I even had the bartender mix some trending cocktails. Was Mrs. Bailey pleased?"
Zachary sneered, gritting his teeth. "Very pleased. So much so, I'm planning to reward you by promoting you to General Manager of our new branch in Africa. Effective immediately."
Stunned silence greeted his announcement.
Desperation tinged Dylan’s voice. "Africa? You do know it’s predominantly agricultural with abysmal GDPs. Are you starting a seed company there?"
Zachary's voice was unyielding, each word dripping with menace. "I’m sending you to prostitute yourself. Don’t come back until you’ve earned a hundred million."
He slammed the phone down, leaving Dylan to grapple with his fate.
That afternoon, Winona left the museum, awkwardly maneuvering her electric wheelchair to hail a cab. Sensing someone following her, she turned to find Rodolfo.
She frowned and asked, "Why are you still following me?"
She hadn't seen him when she left this morning and thought he had given up.
"I'm your bodyguard."
"Then why didn't I see you this morning?"
Probing him further, she felt a certain familiarity in his voice but couldn't place it.
"I figured you wouldn't want me to appear in front of your friends, so I followed from a distance."
"I want to see the boss." Winona demanded. Since her last assignment, the faceless man had remained elusive.
"I'm only responsible for protecting you, not for passing messages."
Undeterred, Winona retrieved her phone and dialed the number she had saved for the faceless man. He had called her with it once on signing day, but his usual communications came from untraceable landlines.
After several tense seconds, the call connected, and simultaneously, a phone rang. It was Rodolfo's.
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