Chapter 61 What Do You Like About Me? I'll Change!
Quinley's eyes went blank, her mind stuttering to a halt.
Her heart felt like a dead fly had crawled inside—everything churned with disgust. She slammed the door shut with a sharp bang.
The apartment still reeked of Alicia's vomit. Quinley threw open every window, but it wasn't enough, so she sprayed air freshener throughout the entire place. Finally, she turned on the air conditioning and stood directly in front of it, desperate for fresh air.
She shouldn't be feeling this way—her emotions were spiraling completely beyond rational control. Zachary and Alicia were engaged; kissing and embracing was perfectly normal. What right did she have to be jealous?
Quinley kept trying to rationalize her feelings, but every time she closed her eyes, that image flashed back: Alicia rising on her tiptoes, pressing her lips to Zachary's. Passionate, tender, and he hadn't refused. He hadn't refused—that meant he liked it, right? If he didn't care for her, he could have easily contacted the Davis family to pick her up. Why come personally?
The more she thought about it, the angrier she became, and the angrier she got, the more she obsessed over it.
What she didn't know was that the moment those elevator doors closed, Zachary had shoved Alicia away with enough force to slam her back against the wall. The impact sobered her completely, tears of pain streaming down her face.
"Zach, please don't be so harsh with me. I know you care—you just don't know how to express it. Deep down, you really love me!" she insisted through her delusions.
Zachary's brows furrowed into a thunderous expression as he held up a hand, blocking her from approaching again. "I've made myself crystal clear—I don't like you. Stop being so presumptuous."
"You're lying!" Tears poured from Alicia's eyes. "If you didn't like me, why would you come get me? When I kissed you just now, you could have pulled away, but you didn't. Zach, please don't treat me this way. I'm really heartbroken."
In the cramped space, she moved toward him again through her tears. He pushed her back once more.
"I came because I didn't want to see you bothering Quinley. What's between you and me has nothing to do with her—never has, never will. Don't go harassing her anymore, or else—"
"Or else you'll kill me?" Alicia finished his sentence, staring at him through her tears.
She had liked him first—so why was his heart occupied by someone else? Someone who was inferior to her in every way? She refused to accept it.
Zachary's voice turned deadly cold. "If you pull that again, I wouldn't mind ending your life."
The elevator doors opened and he strode out, leaving a wave of coldness that seeped into Alicia's very bones. She slumped against the wall, alternating between bitter laughter and tears.
"If she becomes your wife, wouldn't that be the same as ending mine?"
She pulled out her phone and made a call. "I need you to do something for me."
That night, Quinley tossed and turned restlessly. Sleep seemed determined to evade her no matter what she tried. When dawn finally broke, she dragged herself up with massive dark circles under her eyes, made soup in the kitchen, and headed to the hospital early.
Carrying her thermos into the inpatient building, she was suddenly ambushed by a crying little girl who threw her arms around her legs.
"Auntie, I can't find my mommy. Can I use your phone to call her?"
The child was young with delicate features, sobbing heartbrokenly. Quinley wiped away her tears gently. "Do you remember your mommy's number?"
The girl nodded and recited a string of digits. Quinley dialed for her, but when no one answered, the girl tried again. While Quinley bent to tie her shoelaces, the child seized her moment—snatching the phone and bolting toward a black van with covered plates.
"Hey—" Quinley chased after her, but the girl was already gone.
Using a child for petty theft was despicable, though the three-year-old phone wasn't worth much. What stung was the sentimental value—Zachary had given it to her when they first got together, and she'd never replaced it for that reason alone.
Now that it was gone, disappointment hit first, followed quickly by bitter acceptance. He was already kissing Alicia—what was she holding onto anyway?
That evening, Quinley had dozed off on the couch in Colin's hospital room when Marlee's voice pulled her from heavy dreams.
"Quinny, wake up."
She opened drowsy eyes only to freeze at the sight of Zachary standing in the doorway—tall, imposing, and wearing an expression dark as a storm cloud. Her sleepiness evaporated instantly.
"You... how did you get here?"
For some reason, her cheeks flushed warm.
"Come outside." His voice could have frozen water.
Before she could respond, he'd already turned and walked out. Marlee stood there stunned—this was her first encounter with Zachary, and his commanding presence left her speechless.
"Quinny, didn't you quit that company? Are you in trouble again?" Marlee's voice carried fresh worry.
Quinley smiled reassuringly. "Mom, don't overthink it."
She followed Zachary to the elevators, stopping when he pressed the up button. "Whatever you want to say, just say it here."
When she didn't move, he grabbed her arm and yanked her inside, his face terrifyingly dark.
"Let go." She shook him off and pressed herself against the back wall, maintaining as much distance as possible.
His cold gaze pinned her in place. "Where were you all day today?"
"The hospital." She turned her head away, answering curtly.
"You didn't go to Omega Mall?"
The question seemed random. "No."
She was smart enough to know that when resistance was futile, passive compliance was her only weapon.
"Then why did you arrange to meet my mother there?"
Quinley's confusion was genuine. Omega Mall had been Rosewood City's largest shopping complex until a deadly stampede two years ago turned it into a ghost town. Most businesses had fled, leaving behind a hollow shell everyone knew was basically condemned.
"I arranged to meet Sylvia at Omega Mall? Why would I do that?"
She was Sylvia's planted spy—the woman held all the cards. When Sylvia wanted to meet, one call meant Quinley had to show up wherever and whenever demanded. She had no power to initiate anything.
"You didn't?" His expression grew even more ominous as he pulled out a phone—Sylvia's basic elderly model. "You sent this message, didn't you?"
The text showed Quinley's number as the sender. The evidence was damning.
"No. My phone was stolen this morning. I didn't send anything."
The explanation sounded pathetically convenient, even to her own ears.
The elevator opened on the twenty-fifth floor, and Zachary stormed out with Quinley trailing behind, still protesting her innocence.
"Mr. Jennings, I'm telling the truth. My phone was stolen—I didn't send any message to Sylvia."
Before she could finish, someone burst around the corner and grabbed a fistful of her hair.
"You bitch! Go to hell!"