Chapter 647 Truly Feel Sorry for Mr. Bailey
She flinched visibly at the sight of the stick, her eyes wide with terror.
Zachary frowned. How could anyone be so cruel to such a small child? That guy was worse than an animal.
Maeve rushed over. "Kenna!"
Hearing her sister's voice, Kenna scrambled off the stool. Zachary instinctively reached out to keep her from falling.
Kenna threw herself into Maeve's arms. "Maeve, I got lost. I was so scared. I borrowed a phone from a man to call you."
Maeve comforted her for a moment before leading the tearful Kenna over to Zachary. "Mr. Bailey, thank you. You've helped me again."
Zachary responded coolly, "It wasn't me. She's just smart."
Maeve insisted, "Still, thank you."
He knew she was stubborn. Like the incident in the parking lot, even though he had explained many times that it was no trouble, she still felt indebted to him. So he said, "No need to thank me. Just give me a nickel for the phone call, and we're even."
Maeve fell silent.
She was taken aback. She had hoped to use this opportunity to get closer to Zachary, but he didn't give her the chance.
After a moment of hesitation, she reached into her bag for money.
Nowadays, few young people carry cash, and if they do, it's usually larger bills for emergencies.
Maeve pulled out a ten-dollar bill but hesitated, unsure whether to ask Zachary for change or just let him keep it.
As she pondered, she noticed someone nearby using a QR code to pay. Suddenly, she had an idea. "Mr. Bailey, I don't have any change. How about we exchange WhatsApp info, and I'll transfer the money to you?"
Zachary replied, "No need. The front desk should have change. You can get it there."
Maeve's smile faltered. She awkwardly agreed and went to the front desk to get change.
Zachary took the nickel she handed him and casually placed it on the table.
Kenna was found, and the debt was repaid. There seemed to be no reason to stay. "Mr. Bailey."
She hesitated.
Zachary noticed her reluctance but didn't ask. Instead, he handed the cake he had packed earlier to her sister.
Kenna's eyes lit up. She looked up at Maeve, her face full of longing. Despite the temptation, she politely waited for Maeve's approval.
Maeve saw Kenna's eager expression and, after a moment's hesitation, nodded.
Kenna happily took the cake. "Thank you, Mr. Bailey."
Maeve bit her lip, took a deep breath, and said, "Mr. Bailey, that man is going back to his country."
"When?" Zachary's expression turned serious.
Since Timothy's death, there had been no trace of that man. It was as if he had vanished into thin air. Now, he was planning to return to his country.
Maeve sat down across from him, leaning forward until she was almost lying on the table.
She spoke in a low voice, "I'm not sure. He just said he would be going back soon and asked me to pick him up at the airport. The exact time hasn't been set."
Zachary frowned, pressing his forehead, and stayed silent for a long time.
Maeve thought he was contemplating the next steps, but his prolonged silence made her realize something was wrong. "Mr. Bailey, are you having a headache again?"
Zachary shook his head, his voice hoarse and tired. "No, go on."
Maeve noticed his bloodshot eyes and the pain etched in his furrowed brow. "I... I've said everything. Mr. Bailey, should I give you a massage?"
"Sure," came the reply, but it wasn't from Zachary. It was Winona. She had been standing nearby, unnoticed.
She walked over and sat beside him, smiling at Maeve. "He's been having trouble sleeping lately. Thank you, Maeve."
Maeve recognized Winona's handbag, a luxury item worth over twenty thousand dollars, notoriously difficult to acquire.
She had seen others treat it like a treasure, afraid to dirty it, but Winona casually tossed it on the table. Her clothes and accessories were all expensive, things most people could never afford.
Maeve looked down at her own cheap, wholesale market clothes, feeling a deep-seated sense of inferiority. She clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms.
Though she was a carefully groomed pawn, her life had not been interfered with for authenticity.
Winona glanced around and suggested, "This place isn't very convenient. How about we move to a private room with a sofa? It's easier to work there. Maeve, do you charge by the hour or offer VIP packages?"
Maeve was silent.
A wave of shame surged from her feet to her head, her face flushed red, eyes brimming with tears. She stood up abruptly, fists clenched. "Ms. Sullivan, I'm not a masseuse. Even if you have a low opinion of me, you shouldn't insult me like this."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Winona apologized sincerely. "I thought it was your side job. I wanted to support a friend's business. Last time, you helped Zachary with a massage, and now you offered again, so I misunderstood."
What a hypocritical woman!
"Maeve, I'm really sorry. I didn't know the truth."
Maeve trembled with anger but remained proud, like a peacock with its head held high. "Ms. Sullivan, you don't need to apologize. You didn't misunderstand. You think I'm only fit to be a masseuse."
Winona took a sip of Zachary's coffee. "Work is work. As long as it's legal and earned through honest labor, it deserves respect. Ms. Harrington, you're a college student. It's time to let go of outdated ideas before you become a laughingstock."
Maeve was chastised, but she retorted coldly, "Ms. Sullivan, you're right. But I pity Mr. Bailey for having a fiancée like you. You've been here for a while and haven't noticed anything?"
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