Chapter 41 You Are So Cheap!
The fragile pretense between her and Zachary had finally shattered. She could never face him again.
The rain grew heavier, but Quinley didn't hail a cab. She walked home bareheaded, soaked to the bone.
In her bathroom, she sank into the bathtub and filled it with scalding water until steam rose around her. Eyes closed, she curled into a ball, trying to sleep but failing. Her mind played like a broken projector, cycling through three years of memories with Zachary while his voice echoed in her ears: "Quinley, you're disgusting!"
She wasn't particularly heartbroken. From the beginning, she'd known how this game would end. She and Zachary could never work out—there would be no miracle. She had fallen for him, but so what? Hearts that opened could close again. They were destined to be parallel lines, and she could only move forward on her own track.
After soaking until her skin turned pale, Quinley finally emerged. Maybe it was better this way—she'd never have to worry about the truth coming out again. She dried her hair, took two sleeping pills, put on earplugs and an eye mask, and slowly drifted off.
But thunderous pounding jolted her awake. Each knock grew louder and harder. Through the peephole, she saw Zachary outside, his face flushed with alcohol, still beating against her door. Each blow landed on her heart.
Her hand reached for the door handle, then pulled back. Letting him in would be asking for trouble. She called him instead.
"Mr. Jennings, it's very late. Whatever it is can wait until tomorrow. Please go home." Her voice was gentle—she didn't want to provoke him.
"Open the door!" Zachary roared, his pounding growing more violent.
When her building manager called about noise complaints, Quinley quickly declined police involvement. "My friend just had too much to drink. I'll handle it."
She changed clothes and opened the door. Zachary's raised palm froze mid-swing.
"Mr. Jennings, I'm sorry I deceived you. But we've already separated. Please don't do this anymore." She leaned against the doorframe, her tone pleading.
"No." His words slurred together. Sober Zachary was domineering enough—drunk Zachary was domineering and unreasonable. He reeked of alcohol, his eyes bloodshot.
"What will it take for you to leave me alone?"
"I won't." Then his large hand shot out, grabbing her neck and pulling her into his arms. Zachary was massive compared to Quinley's slight frame—she couldn't fight him.
"Mr. Jennings, don't—" Before she could finish, his mouth covered hers, kissing her roughly while the taste of alcohol flooded between them.
Quinley struggled, but he was too strong. With one arm, he lifted her and stumbled toward the bedroom.
"You love money, right? I'll give you money." He threw her onto the bed and pulled out a stack of bills, tossing them into the air. Money rained down like confetti.
Quinley lay there watching, her eyes stinging. What started as a transaction between them had become something more—but she could never tell him that.
"Zachary, get out!" For the first time, she used his name, her voice ice-cold.
He loomed over her with narrowed eyes, then suddenly pressed down, trapping her beneath him. "I'm coming in whether you like it or not."
Their eyes met—his bloodshot gaze reflected her unspoken words. So many things hovered on her lips but remained unsaid.
"Let me go!" Her final act of resistance.
He didn't move, had no intention of letting her go. Quinley turned her head away and closed her eyes in defeat. Since she couldn't fight him, she'd stop trying.
"Look at me!" he commanded from above. She answered only with silence.
Later, he punished her defiance in his usual way. There was no escape. This time, Zachary took his time until Quinley was exhausted to her bones, curled on the bed like a broken doll, sobbing softly before he finally released her. The moment it ended, he collapsed and fell asleep.
While he slept, Quinley couldn't. She gathered the scattered money—over ten thousand dollars in a thick stack. If she were a prostitute, Zachary would be a generous client. But that wasn't what they were to each other. She laughed bitterly and stuffed all the money back into his pockets. She did love money, but she hadn't fallen that far.
She contacted Lucas to pick up Zachary. Half an hour later, he arrived to find Zachary dressed but too drunk to wake.
"Thank you for this, Mr. Murphy," she said politely. Lucas was probably the only one at Apex Global Group who knew about her relationship with Zachary, but he was discreet and loyal.
"Ms. Elikin, it's so late. Maybe Mr. Jennings should just sleep here? I can wait downstairs—"
"That's not appropriate." Quinley crossed her arms firmly. Even when they were together, he'd never spent the night. Now that they were apart, they needed to avoid any appearance of impropriety.
Lucas's expression darkened, but he helped Zachary toward the door without another word. At the threshold, he paused. "Ms. Elikin, Mr. Jennings really does care about you."
Quinley's heart skipped, but she didn't respond. "Thank you for your trouble, Mr. Murphy."
Lucas drove the Maybach back to Maple Estate while Zachary slept in the back seat. Halfway there, the phone kept ringing—Alicia calling persistently until the battery died.
Lucas frowned. After working with Zachary for so long, he'd absorbed some of his boss's instincts. In this moment, he understood Zachary's choice.
Alicia was perfect in every way—beautiful, gentle, understanding—but there was something calculating about her. Quinley couldn't compare to her in most ways, but she had one quality Alicia lacked: knowing when to step back.
The thing men feared most was women who didn't know their place. After all, someone who couldn't read the room was simply boring.
The Maybach had barely pulled into Maple Estate when an uninvited guest appeared.