Chapter 532 We Leave Dreamopolis
Zachary stumbled up to his front door, feeling a bit buzzed from a night out. He'd had a few more drinks than usual, and while he wasn't totally drunk, his thoughts were a bit fuzzy.
As soon as he opened the door, he saw someone standing there.
The person was wearing a long black down coat, with slightly long hair covering their forehead. In the dim light, all Zachary could make out were a pair of bright eyes and unnaturally red lips. It was enough to sober him up instantly.
He frowned. "Why didn't you turn on the lights?"
He reached out and flipped the switch on the wall, lighting up the living room. Timothy, who had been standing there like a statue, was now visible in the bright light. He still looked a bit creepy, but at least he didn't look like a ghost anymore.
The living room was freezing, so Zachary turned on the floor heating. "How long have you been here? Why didn't you turn on the heat?" he asked.
Timothy, catching a whiff of alcohol on Zachary, asked, "Did you drink?"
Zachary replied, "Yeah, couldn't say no. Had a few glasses."
"I'll make you some hangover medicine," Timothy said, heading to the kitchen. Zachary didn't cook, but his kitchen was always stocked. Timothy would come by regularly to replace the food with fresh supplies so nothing expired.
Zachary said, "No need, I'm not drunk."
Timothy said, "Then I'll get you a glass of water."
Zachary responded, "I'll do it myself."
Timothy turned abruptly, his eyes locked on Zachary. "Are you afraid I'll drug you?"
His mental state seemed off, and there was a flicker in his eyes that could burn someone to ashes. Zachary thought of the Bailey Group's actions today and immediately understood why Timothy was so agitated. He said, "I'm not thirsty."
Timothy put his hand in his pocket, feeling the item inside. It was a new drug Dr. Wilson had brought back from an international conference recently. It was potent and fast-acting, capable of completely scrambling someone's memory in just a month.
Seeing Zachary walk over to the sofa, Timothy hesitated for a moment before following him.
Zachary spread his legs, resting his elbows on his knees, pressing his aching brow, looking very uncomfortable.
Timothy squatted beside him, looking up at him. "Nicholas, is your head hurting again?"
There was an empty seat nearby, but Timothy preferred this position. From below, he could observe every change in Zachary's expression and detect his thoughts immediately.
Zachary replied, "Yeah."
Whether it was due to medication or the aftereffects of forced hypnosis, he often had headaches. Occasionally, a voice would pop into his head, trying to force non-existent memories into his mind.
Timothy said, "Nicholas, let's leave."
Zachary stopped rubbing his brow and turned to look at Timothy. "Where to?" he asked.
"Let's leave Dreamopolis and head to another city, go abroad—anywhere, really. Forget about the Ramsey Group and forget Dad. Just the two of us, let's escape together." Timothy became more animated as he spoke, placing his hand on Zachary's leg. "I've saved up a good amount of money—enough for us to live comfortably for several lifetimes. We can find a small town and build a life together."
Zachary was silent for a while and replied, "Alright."Timothy was stunned at first, but then his face lit up with uncontrollable joy. He jumped up, all excited. "I'll book the tickets right now."
"Hold on," Zachary stopped him. "Even if we leave, we need to make sure the Ramsey Group is taken care of. It's finally showing some progress. If I leave, it'll go back to being a mess. This is Dad's hard work, and it's my responsibility."
He pretended not to notice Timothy's twisted expression and continued, "I've found a flaw in the Bailey Group's new project. Once we cut off their retreat and expose it, the Bailey Group will never have a chance to turn things around."
Timothy was anxious but excited at the thought of the Bailey Group's downfall. His face was a mix of conflicting emotions. "What flaw?" he asked.
Zachary responded, "Not sure yet. I've sent someone to investigate. Even if the info turns out to be incorrect and there's no leverage, we'll create some."
Timothy asked, "How long will that take?"
Zachary replied, "Quickest, a month. Slowest, three to six months."
Timothy put his hand back in his pocket, feeling the bottle of medicine.
At that moment, Zachary gripped Timothy's shoulder, like a motivational speaker at a company meeting. He said, "I need to see Dad. That accident seemed to have messed up my brain. I remember him, but nothing else. If he hadn't picked me up from the trash heap back then, I might have died long ago.
He's my savior and raised me. If I can't remember his face, can't fulfill his tasks, and leave him with a mess, I'll feel guilty for the rest of my life."
He thought to himself, 'Damn it. I never said anything this cheesy to Winona. It's disgusting.'
Timothy felt the same, like he had swallowed something foul.
These were memories he had created for Zachary, but he had his own selfish motives. He didn't want Zachary to remember anyone but him, especially not his father.
Timothy unconsciously touched his own body. His injuries were no less than Zachary's, and they were all inflicted by his father.
"Dad won't blame us," Timothy's voice was flat, devoid of any emotion or persuasion.
Zachary said, "But I can't convince myself."
Timothy asked, "Will we leave Dreamopolis after you see Dad?"
Zachary replied, "Yes."
Timothy said, "Okay."
Whether he agreed or not, Timothy didn't say, and Zachary didn't ask.
The atmosphere was tense, but it couldn't be rushed. Timothy was like a rat hiding in the sewer, ready to retreat at the slightest disturbance and never come out again.
Timothy said, "I'll leave now."
Zachary responded, "Alright, since I've been drinking, I can't drive. I'll have the driver take you home."
Timothy gave Zachary a piercing look, his hand gripping the box of medication tightly in his pocket. "Don't lie to me," he warned, thinking, 'Or you'll regret it.'
After Timothy had left, Zachary took a nap on the sofa. He was half-asleep when the phone rang. He opened his eyes immediately, checked the caller ID, and answered.
The person on the other end confirmed it was Zachary before speaking. "Timothy is home."
Zachary replied, "Good, keep me updated on any movements."
After hanging up, Zachary changed his clothes and left again.
He drove to the villa where Jackson had been recovering, but this time, the person in the basement was Otis.
Zachary walked down the stairs, hearing voices. One of them was Samuel's. "Do these look familiar?"
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