Chapter 456 Breast Hyperplasia
Rebecca turned her phone screen around to show her the interface. "It's Nicholas. I must have accidentally dialed him just now."
She and Nicholas hadn't exchanged numbers. She had asked Dylan for his number a couple of days ago, intending to discuss the bidding process with him, but Evander had stopped her.
The call had already connected, and a man's cold, indifferent voice came through the receiver. "What's up?"
Although the speakerphone wasn't on, the room was so quiet in the early morning that every word and tone could be heard clearly.
Winona was about to reach for the phone when Rebecca quickly pulled it back and exclaimed nervously, "Oh no, why is there blood?"
She then immediately hung up the call.
The whole operation was smooth and quick, leaving Winona no time to react. "Where's the blood?"
The fall earlier didn't seem that bad. Could it be that she was too nervous to notice?
Rebecca replied, "My heart is bleeding. Aren't you unsure if he's Zachary? If he shows up soon, then he is. If he doesn't, then he's Nicholas, and you should ignore him from now on. If you see him, hit him."
For the past few months, Rebecca had watched Winona suffer and worry. Especially in the first couple of months, she stayed by her side constantly, afraid she might do something foolish because of Zachary.
If he were truly gone or severely injured and unable to return, Rebecca wouldn't bother him. But if he had come back and pretended not to know Winona, she would be the Everest on his path to winning Winona back. "He's not in some special job. Even if he had to use another identity temporarily, I don't believe he wouldn't have been able to tell you."
If he wanted to pretend not to know Winona, he should stay quiet and be an unobtrusive ex until things were resolved. But he kept stirring up her emotions just as she was starting to calm down.
Such a jerk deserves a good lesson.
Winona said, "He might have his reasons."
"What reasons? Aren't couples supposed to stick together through thick and thin? If he's afraid of involving his family, he should keep a safe distance. How many times have you been with him? He's stringing you along, afraid you'll be with another man, but unwilling to give you an answer. How is he different from those guys who just want to sleep with women? At least those guys say some sweet lies when they're in the moment. He just doesn't want to take responsibility."
Winona remained silent.
"Don't indulge him. If I were you, I'd parade with a different man in front of him every day and let him cry."
Winona recalled a news article she had read earlier. "Crying too much can lead to breast hyperplasia."
Rebecca looked at her in shock. "Men can get that too?"
"Don't men have breasts?"
"Sorry, I didn't know. I'll watch more educational programs and play fewer games and watch fewer shows," Rebecca joked before getting serious. "Stop worrying about his breasts and think about yourself. The amount of stress you've been under these past few months is more than some people experience in a lifetime. You haven't developed hyperplasia, so how could he?"
That made a lot of sense.
Meanwhile, the person Rebecca had criticized as worse than a jerk was as anxious as a cat on a hot tin roof but couldn't show it. He held his phone and 'calmly' stood up to walk out of the hospital room.
As soon as he moved, Timothy looked over at him. "Nicholas, are you leaving me to go back to the company?"
He had begged and pleaded to get Nicholas to stay, even bringing up their dad. He said if Nicholas didn't stay with him, he would call their dad and complain, which finally made Nicholas agree.
So when he saw Nicholas get up, Timothy got very nervous.
Nicholas said, "I'm going downstairs for a smoke. My craving is acting up. I'll get you something to eat while I'm at it."
The anesthesia had worn off, and Timothy was in a lot of pain, especially in his injured hand and leg. His eyes were fixed on Nicholas, his eyes red, his brows furrowed in pain, and a fine layer of sweat on his forehead; he looked utterly pitiful.
A beautiful, weak, and miserable boy lying in a hospital bed, looking at you with big, sad eyes—if it were a woman who liked young boys, her heart would melt, and she'd want to comfort him.
Of course, it was all an act. He had gotten used to being beaten and scolded in the orphanage and no longer cried from pain. Or rather, he had never really cried from physical pain.
He enjoyed pretending to be pitiful, and he liked it even more when others looked pained.
Timothy said, "I'm not hungry. I don't have an appetite. I don't want to eat anything."
Nicholas's mind was filled with Rebecca's panicked "bleeding" and couldn't focus on placating him. Timothy said he wasn't hungry, so Nicholas just said, "Okay, I'm going for a smoke."
Timothy watched him until he was out of sight, and the pitiful look in his eyes gradually turned into a cold, expressionless stare.
He took out his phone and dialed a number. "Did you find out? Was the person who hit me tonight sent by my brother?"
"We haven't found any connection between Mr. Ramsey and him. That woman was out with her lover. Jackson's people have been following her for days, and today just happened to be..."
"Are you saying I was unlucky? Just happened to run into them?" Timothy's voice had a cold, sinister edge, like a snake ready to strike, sending chills down one's spine. "I think my brother did it. If you can't find evidence, I'll regret bringing you along on the boat. Don't forget how Kyle died."
"Mr... Timothy, I'll check again."
Timothy sneered, "If you slip up again, I'll cut out your tongue and feed it to the dogs."
The idiot had almost said 'Mr. Bailey' earlier.
Timothy hated the name Zachary. Nicholas was the name he had chosen for him.
"Nicholas..." He closed his eyes in delight, his lips moving slightly as he softly uttered the name. It sounded so nice.
Winona's fall had scared Rebecca wide awake. It was already 5 AM, and unable to sleep, she started feeling a bit hungry. She went to the kitchen and made two bowls of meat sauce noodles. Just as she brought them into the room, she heard the sound of an ambulance siren from downstairs.
It got closer and closer, then stopped right below their building.
Rebecca placed one of the bowls in front of Winona. "It's probably another case of someone collapsing from overwork. Our generation is really trading life for money."
This area was a commercial center, surrounded by apartments rented out to white-collar workers, with hardly any elderly people living here.
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