Better Late, But Never His Again novel Chapter 45

Zachary's body was strung tight as a bowstring, but he didn't make a single sound. His breathing grew noticeably heavier, the ragged inhales filling the dead silence of the bedroom.

Hazel didn't ask how he got the injury. If he'd rather bleed out in the bushes than go to a hospital, he was clearly mixed up in something highly illegal.

She worked with soft, practiced movements, applying the ointment and wrapping the pristine white gauze tightly around his sculpted chest, tying it off securely behind his back.

Minute by minute passed. By the time she secured the final layer of bandaging, Zachary's color had marginally improved, finally shedding that horrifying, deathly pallor.

She snapped the medical kit shut, placed the correct bottle of antiseptic on the nightstand, and stood up.

"If the pain keeps you awake, apply another layer of the ointment. Do it again first thing in the morning. If it gets infected..."

She stared him down, her tone dead serious. "You have to go to an ER."

With that, she turned to leave. Just as she reached the doorframe, a low, gravelly voice broke the silence behind her.

"Thank you."

Hazel paused, glancing back at the man slumped against the headboard. He still wore that same frozen, expressionless mask, making it seem impossible that such vulnerable words had just left his lips.

She studied him for a few seconds before a small smile touched her mouth.

"Don't mention it. You fixed the painting for free, and I saved your life. Consider us even."

With that, she pulled the door open and slipped out.

...

Meanwhile, outside the gala entrance.

Julian Hayes had clearly had far too much to drink. His footsteps were heavy and erratic as Evelyn Vance struggled to support his weight on the way to the parking lot.

"Evelyn..." he slurred, his voice thick with intoxication.

Evelyn wore a triumphant, radiant smile. She affectionately brushed a hand through his hair and cooed, "I'm right here, Julian."

"Evelyn, you looked so beautiful tonight..."

He was calling for his wife.

Evelyn's hands balled into tight fists.

She roughly shoved Julian into the backseat of the Maybach. Her movements were so violent that his shoulder slammed into the doorframe. He let out a pained grunt, collapsing awkwardly against the leather seats, yet he kept slurring blindly.

"Honey... hangover cure..."

Standing outside the car, Evelyn's chest heaved with poorly contained rage. She took a ragged breath, slammed the door shut, and snapped at the driver. "Take him home."

The driver glanced back at the heavily intoxicated Julian, then looked at the furious Evelyn standing outside. He frowned, but smartly kept his mouth shut and started the engine.

The luxury car smoothly pulled away from the curb.

Evelyn stood alone in the dark, watching the taillights bleed into the night, her eyes suddenly stinging with humiliation.

She had vastly underestimated exactly how deep Hazel Garrison's roots ran in Julian's heart.