Chapter 406 I Told You Not to Move
Carlos, looking all anxious, said, "Winona, I'm doing this to keep you safe. When your mom married me, her only condition was that I treat you like my own. Your real dad was broke and ditched you. Your grandpa was so mad he almost made her get an abortion. Back then, if it wasn't for me, your mother might not even have been able to give birth to you in the end."
Carlos went on, "I really loved her. I mean, what guy would raise another man's kid? She cheated on me, and I still didn't hold a grudge."
Hearing this, Frank felt a rare surge of anger. His fists clenched, but he was mostly mad at himself. If he had been gentler back then, maybe they wouldn't have broken up so impulsively. Two people who loved each other missed out on so many years, now separated by life and death.
With a disgusted look, he said, "You really defiled her."
Carlos didn't recognize Frank, but he could tell from his demeanor and clothes that he was wealthy. His confidence vanished as he asked, "Who are you?"
"I'm the poor bastard you were talking about."
Frank said, "All these years, I've been praying she was doing better than me. I always thought she was doing well, but I never expected..."
His gaze turned icy, and without another word, he punched Carlos in the face.
The sudden turn of events caught everyone off guard, even Rodolfo, who had been with Frank for years. No matter how unreasonable someone was, he had never seen Frank personally get physical.
Carlos was either stunned by Frank's words or dazed by the sudden attack. He took several punches before reacting and raising his hand to fight back.
"Mr. Turner..." Rodolfo hurriedly tried to intervene.
Frank looked up, his eyes slightly red, and sternly ordered, "Stay there, don't interfere."
Winona was about to step in, but Zachary stopped her. "He's venting his anger for your mother as a man. Let's not interfere. Call an ambulance first."
"Will it get that serious?"
Zachary sneered, his eyes cold. "If someone bullied you like that, I wouldn't even give him a chance to get on an ambulance."
Although Frank was older, he exercised regularly and was much stronger than Carlos, who had indulged in pleasure after getting rich and had been locked up for months. In just a few minutes, Carlos was only taking hits, unable to fight back or even dodge.
In the end, the ambulance Zachary called was indeed needed.
Frank wiped the blood off the back of his hand with a tissue. He was also injured, but not seriously. He looked at Winona, his expression gentle. The anger that had filled him moments ago had dissipated. "Are you staying here tonight? Grace might wake up later, and we could get some information."
Winona thought for a moment and said, "I'll take her back to Regal Oaks. She's probably been through a major shock and might not recover quickly. I'll find a psychologist for her."
Given her current mental state, even if she gave useful testimony, it wouldn't hold up.
Frank didn't push it. He nodded, "I'm a bit tired. I'll go rest for a while. I won't walk you out."
He then headed upstairs. His back was still straight, but a clear sense of loneliness and desolation surrounded him, making him look much older.
Winona watched him for a moment and then said with concern, "Don't be too sad."
Frank replied, "It's okay."
She wanted to ask about the painting but knew it wasn't the right time, so she held back.
"I know what you want to ask, but I can't give you an answer. Only Kyle might know the significance of that painting, significant enough to kill for it."
Back at Regal Oaks, Zachary placed Grace in a servant's room at the back, assigned two bodyguards to watch her closely, and contacted a psychologist.
After making all the arrangements, he returned to the main house, where Winona was cooking in the kitchen.
She was wearing an apron, her hair tied up casually with a hair tie. Sunlight streamed in through the window, illuminating her hands as she skillfully chopped vegetables, making her hands look almost translucent, like fine jade, white with a hint of red.
Zachary hugged her from behind. "Why are you cooking?"
"I'm hungry, and you sent Quinn back."
In other words, she had no choice but to cook for herself.
Zachary took the knife from her hand. "Let me do it."
He chopped the vegetables skillfully, the knife hitting the cutting board quickly and rhythmically. Winona, trapped in his embrace, felt hot and cramped. She wriggled uncomfortably, wanting to go to the living room to watch TV.
The chopping stopped. Zachary said, "Don't move. I'm afraid you'll hurt yourself."
Winona asked, "Aren't you uncomfortable like this?"
"A little," Zachary replied calmly. "But if you don't move, it'll settle down soon."
Winona instantly understood his meaning, not because her mind figured it out, but because her body felt it. She turned back in disbelief, her forehead brushing against Zachary's chin. His Adam's apple bobbed up and down a few times. "I told you not to move."
She stiffened, not daring to move again. The spot where she was pressed against was both hard and hot. "Are you a hooligan?"
She was feeling so upset, but he still had his mind on such things.
"If I were a hooligan, my hands would be unzipping my pants right now, not chopping potatoes. You wouldn't be standing in front of me; you'd be on the counter," he paused, then added seriously, "or bent over it."
Winona couldn't help but imagine the scene he described.
The kitchen windows were one-way mirrors, but even knowing that no one could see in, her face turned red. She pushed Zachary away forcefully. "Just chop your potatoes, you pervert."
After his antics, Winona miraculously found that the stuffiness and discomfort in her heart had lessened considerably.
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