Chapter 109 Is the Child Mine?
"Planning to move out?"
Zachary pulled a cigarette pack and lighter from his pocket. He drew out a cigarette and brought it to his lips, but when he tried the lighter, the flame wouldn't catch. He pressed it again and again—the damn thing seemed determined to spite him.
He stood there tall and rigid, his eyes darkening in the overlapping shadows. The more it refused to light, the harder he pressed.
Quinley made a small sound of acknowledgment and walked straight over. She took the lighter from his hand naturally, flicked the wheel once, and a flame shot up. She held it out to him. Zachary leaned in, the cigarette between his lips.
The tip glowed bright, then dim. He took a deep drag, the smoke harsh and burning as it filled his lungs. He coughed.
"Your health isn't great. You should cut back on those."
Quinley handed the lighter back to him. Just ordinary concern, but somehow it made him read too much into it.
Being this close, Zachary's burning gaze settled on Quinley again. "Mr. Jennings, would you like some water? Let me put the kettle on."
Catching that fire in his eyes, Quinley quickly moved away. She turned and hurried toward the kitchen.
The kettle had been packed away. She pulled it from the cabinet, filled it with water, plugged it in. The kettle gurgled to life.
She didn't go back out. Instead she stayed in the kitchen, arms crossed, waiting for the water to boil. But time seemed to move slower than usual. It felt like forever before the water finally bubbled and steamed.
Quinley found a cup, rinsed it out, filled it with hot water, and carried it out to Zachary. At some point he'd moved from the balcony to the living room. The cigarette was gone—smoked or tossed, she couldn't tell. He sat at the dining table, and when he saw Quinley approaching with the glass, he stood to take it.
The glass was scorching hot. Their fingers touched. Quinley's grip loosened.
Bang.
The glass hit the floor and shattered into pieces. In a flash, Zachary pulled Quinley back protectively. Fortunately, none of the water splashed on her.
"Did it burn you?" He grabbed her hand to check.
"No." His hand was large, solid, warm.
They were close again. Quinley felt like Zachary's scent was everywhere—filling her nose, surrounding her. It was a dangerous scent.
"How did you get in?" Quinley pulled her hand back and went to the utility closet for a broom and mop.
As she swept up the glass shards, Zachary wordlessly grabbed the mop and started cleaning up the water.
She was asking even though she knew the answer. That key had been left for him ages ago. Sometimes he'd come over late, after she'd already fallen asleep. She'd have to drag herself out of bed to let him in.
Once he'd shown up drunk, pounding on the door for ages. Quinley had taken a sleeping pill that night and hadn't heard a thing. After that, she'd tucked a spare key under the doormat for him.
Still, he'd kept his habit of knocking or calling. He'd never actually used that key. Now they were separated. She was about to become someone's wife, someone's mother. To avoid any impropriety, he shouldn't have used that key.
"You didn't take back the key from under the mat."
"Forgot about it." Quinley let out a small laugh and held out her hand openly to Zachary. "I sold the place. I won't be living here anymore. Give me back the key, Mr. Jennings."
Zachary froze slightly, looking at her in disbelief. "Who'd you sell it to?"
The question came out of nowhere. This place held so many of their memories. He never expected Quinley would choose to sell it.
So she wanted to make a clean break with the past?
"A young couple. Their kid just hit school age, and they want to enroll nearby. As for me, I won't be living here anymore. No point letting the place sit empty, and the market's good right now. Makes sense to sell."
Quinley rattled it off matter-of-factly. Her mind worked fast—Zachary had never denied that. Real estate markets fluctuated constantly. He'd never paid attention to any of it, but Quinley had a nose for these things, picking up on shifts before they happened.
He hesitated a moment, pulled out the key and looked at it, then chose to hand it over. Quinley took it and efficiently continued packing her things.
"Does Mr. Jennings need anything else? I have to go."
Quinley grabbed two bags and headed for the door. "Let me help you."
Zachary stepped forward and took the bags from her hands before heading out. They walked one in front of the other, one tall and one shorter, moving in surprising harmony.
Outside the elevator, Quinley took the bags back from Zachary. "Thanks for the free labor, Mr. Jennings. That was really kind of you. Mr. Brown's coming to pick me up—I'll just wait for him here."
She said it so naturally, looking nothing like someone telling a lie. Zachary released the bags but didn't move away.
"Thank you."
He looked at Quinley with complicated eyes. Emotions surged through him—gratitude, guilt, reluctance, anger. All these feelings wove together into a net, layer upon layer, trying to trap Quinley inside.
But she was like a slippery eel. He'd carved out a pond for her, but she insisted on squirming free.
"I should be thanking you." Quinley smiled that innocent smile.
"That kind of thing was dangerous. Don't do it again. But the fact that you'd help me—I'm grateful."
"Mr. Jennings, I think there's been a misunderstanding." Quinley refused to take the bait, fully committed to playing dumb.
"I've been so busy preparing for the wedding lately, I really haven't had time to help you. Besides, I'm just an ordinary person. Once I left Apex Global Group, I was nothing. Forget helping you—I'd be lucky not to drag you down."
Quinley sounded completely sincere, but Zachary knew better. He didn't know what methods she'd used to get that recording, but he believed she absolutely had that capability.
When she'd worked as his secretary, he'd discovered Quinley had almost supernatural abilities. Those nightmare projects that no one else could crack would somehow get resolved easily once they landed in Quinley's hands, like she could work magic.
After leaving Apex Global Group, all that sharpness had vanished. She'd become cautious, timid, afraid of everything—nothing like the woman he'd known.
Zachary's dark eyes remained fixed on Quinley. Once you'd fallen for someone, you'd probably fall again and again. She desperately wanted to push him away. He should let her, but...
"Is that baby mine?"
The question came out. His voice wasn't loud, but it sent massive ripples through Quinley's heart.
Her instinct was to deny it immediately, but she knew that would only make Zachary suspicious. She understood his temperament well—once doubt took root, he'd stop at nothing to uncover the truth.
This baby's existence was already a liability. Quinley didn't want the child to become leverage, a pawn, a bargaining chip for anyone.
She'd already decided—she'd take this baby and leave Rosewood City, find someplace quiet where no one knew them, and live a good life far away from all this mess.
"Mr. Jennings, are you joking?" Quinley shot back, her face coloring with annoyance. "Yes, we had something once. But that was a long time ago. Mr. Brown treats me incredibly well. He's a very responsible man. We're getting married soon. He's my husband and my baby's father."
"Please don't show up in my life anymore. And don't say inappropriate things like that. I love Mr. Brown. He's about to be my family, and I won't let anyone hurt him."
Quinley got it all out in one breath. Her chest heaved with emotion. She pushed past Zachary, grabbed the bags from the ground, and strode away with fierce determination.
Zachary stood rooted to the spot, eyes narrowed as he watched Quinley's figure disappear into the distance.
She loved David? They'd known each other less than three months, and she'd already fallen for him? While they'd been together for three years and she'd never once felt anything?
Inside Zachary's chest, jealousy overflowed.