Chapter 7 Who Does He Really Want to Marry
In her bedroom, Quinley methodically packed Zachary's belongings. He rarely spent the night, so there were few personal items—just two seasonal outfits hanging in her closet.
She removed the dust covers, folded everything carefully, and sealed them in an opaque bag. Then she moved to the bathroom to collect his toiletries for another bag.
If they were truly separating, it had to be clean and complete. Keeping reminders would only prolong the pain.
As she worked, the doorbell rang.
Wearing loose loungewear and slippers, her hair hastily pulled back in a messy ponytail, Quinley went to answer, assuming Zachary had returned for something he'd forgotten.
Instead, Alicia stood at the threshold, eyes puffy from crying. Despite her emotional state, she looked impeccable in a pale pink dress, her makeup still flawless.
"Ms. Elikin, I'm sorry to disturb you. May we talk for a moment?"
"Please come in, Ms. Davis."
Quinley stepped aside as Alicia entered on her high heels. The apartment was modest—a one-bedroom unit, tastefully decorated and meticulously clean.
While Quinley fetched water from the kitchen, Alicia surveyed the space. When Quinley returned, she found her visitor seated on the sofa, crying again.
"Please tell me who Zach wants to marry," Alicia pleaded.
Rejected by Zachary, she had turned to Quinley for answers. As his secretary, Quinley knew his schedule intimately—if another woman existed in his life, she would know.
Yet besides Quinley herself, there was no one else.
Alicia clearly suspected her, and Quinley felt a headache building.
If Zachary hadn't made that careless statement, she might have escaped this situation cleanly. Now she was being pulled into the vortex.
There was no avoiding this confrontation. Quinley steeled herself to face it.
"Ms. Davis, it's always been you," she lied smoothly. "That black diamond bracelet? I was with Mr. Jennings on the business trip when he specifically acquired it for you. He said then that it was for someone extremely important to him. You mean so much to him—who else would he want to marry?"
But Alicia wasn't easily fooled. "There's a difference between marrying someone and wanting to marry them. Surely you understand that?"
Quinley understood perfectly, but she had to play dumb.
"If Mr. Jennings intends to marry you, of course he wants to! You're beautiful, gentle, and from a distinguished family. How could he not want you?"
Playing the fool when necessary had been Zachary's first lesson to her. Sometimes feigned ignorance was the best self-preservation.
"But his words yesterday hurt me so deeply!" Alicia dissolved into tears again.
Zachary had created this mess, and now Quinley found herself playing firefighter, rushing to extinguish the flames and repair the damage.
"Mr. Jennings has just taken over Apex Global Group and is under tremendous pressure. With Ms. Parker pushing for your marriage, it's natural he'd show some resistance. Please be patient with him."
Alicia seemed to find comfort in this explanation.
"You're right. I should be more patient and understanding with Zach. After all, we've known each other for over a decade—that's not something easily replaced."
Her implication was clear.
Quinley smiled innocently. "Your deep connection with Mr. Jennings means marriage is inevitable, just a matter of time."
This diplomatic skill wasn't something Zachary had taught her. She'd developed it naturally, like a catfish navigating murky waters.
In the corporate world, saying what people wanted to hear was often the best form of self-protection.
"I'm so glad I came to you today," Alicia said, smiling through her tears. "Otherwise, I'd still be upset and confused!"
"You're too kind, Ms. Davis. I'm only speaking the truth. I'm honored to help."
Alicia rose to leave, but as she reached the entryway, she stopped abruptly.
Her gaze fell on a pair of men's slippers—size 9, navy blue.
Zachary's slippers, the ones he always wore. In her rush to pack his things, Quinley had forgotten to include them.
Both women stared at the slippers.
"Do you have a boyfriend, Ms. Elikin?" Alicia asked with feigned casualness.
"No, my brother attends university nearby and occasionally visits for dinner," Quinley lied without hesitation.
"I see." Alicia drew out the syllable, then laughed softly. "My mind was wandering. But you really should find someone, Ms. Elikin."
Her eyes remained fixed on the slippers, doubt lingering in her expression.
"What kind of man do you prefer? I could keep an eye out for you."
Quinley smiled innocently. "Anyone with good character would be fine. Thank you for your concern."
"It's no trouble. You've taken such good care of Zach and helped ease my worries. I promise to find you someone with excellent character and qualities."
Quinley didn't believe her for a second but thanked her sincerely.
Only after Alicia left did Quinley quickly grab the slippers and stuff them into the bag. There could be no remaining connections between her and Zachary—the risk was too great.
She took a taxi to Maple Estate, Zachary's private Mediterranean-style villa she had visited only once before.
After handing the bags to the housekeeper, she texted Zachary to inform him.
He didn't respond.
Ending relationships required being quick, precise, and decisive—better for everyone involved. Quinley chose the path of swift conclusion.
Leaving Maple Estate, she decided to visit her family. Sylvia had already arranged her study abroad program, scheduled to begin in a week.
Quinley bought fruit on the way. At home, her father Colin sat watching television while her mother Marlee bustled in the kitchen.
Seeing Quinley, both parents hurried to greet her.
"Quinny, you've lost weight again! No matter how busy work gets, you must eat properly," Colin said, taking her hand with concern.
He had recovered remarkably well—his complexion healthy, his voice strong.
"Dad, I haven't lost weight! During the company physical, I was actually five pounds heavier than last year," Quinley replied with a smile.
"A little extra weight looks good on you," Colin said affectionately.
Soon, Marlee had prepared a table full of dishes. The three sat together, laughing and talking as they had before Colin's illness.
Three years had changed everything, yet nothing seemed different. For Quinley, having her family intact and healthy made everything worthwhile.
"Quinny, you must come home for meals more often. I'll cook all your favorites," Marlee said indulgently, placing a piece of fried fish on Quinley's plate.
"Mom," Quinley called softly, nibbling at the fish. "I'm going abroad next week. I might not be able to come back for a while."
Colin and Marlee were stunned.
"Abroad? Your job is going so well—why leave?" Colin asked.
Marlee added, "Quinny, has something happened? Don't keep it inside—talk to us."
She wanted to tell them everything but couldn't.
"It's because I've performed so well that the company is rewarding me with further education abroad, all expenses paid. Isn't that wonderful news? Aren't you happy for me?"
Another lie. The people closest to you were often the easiest to deceive.
Colin and Marlee believed her instantly.
"That's wonderful news! Our Quinny is so accomplished."
Quinley stayed late that night. They talked for hours, as if sensing such moments might become rare in the future.
It was nearly dawn when she returned to her apartment. She showered and prepared for bed. The bedroom light was broken, so she slipped into the darkness under her covers.
A strong arm suddenly pulled her into a familiar embrace.