Winona froze, startled. "Who is this?"
There was a brief silence on the other end before a low, apologetic voice replied, "I'm Xander, a friend of Felicity's."
Winona immediately hung up, the click sharp in the quiet.
Xander stared at his phone, now emitting only the dull tone of a disconnected line. He sat there in disbelief for several moments. When he tried calling again, he realized she'd already blocked his number.
Meanwhile, Winona was sitting in Yves Prescott's car, parked just outside her apartment complex. After Yves had picked her up from outside The Laurel Hill Lounge, she'd spent what felt like hours crying in the passenger seat. Winona was not the type to cry. In six years of her unhappy marriage to Julian, through all the hardships and humiliation, she'd never once shed a tear.
But tonight, she wept like a lost child.
"Why do they have to keep coming after me?" she sobbed, voice raw. "Did I mess with their family graves? Did I ever hurt their mothers or sisters? Why do they want to ruin me completely?"
"Yves, am I going to prison? If I go to jail, what happens to my grandmother, my son? Mia… she can't look after both of them alone. No! I can't go to prison… What am I supposed to do?"
"Yves, I'll give you everything I have on my project—the plans, the contacts, all of it. Find a good architect, someone who can work with Mr. Zachary Shaw. I'm giving you the whole thing. Please, in return, can you take care of my grandmother, my son, and Mia…?"
"They… they've all had such hard lives."
"My grandmother—she was Felicity's grandfather's first wife. She never had children, spent her whole life being mistreated. She's never known a single day of happiness. She's completely alone in this world…"
"My son… he was abandoned at birth because he was born deaf…"
"And Mia… she's always dreamed of marrying someone stable, someone who could give her a real home, but she keeps falling for the wrong men. Everyone says she's hopeless, but the truth is, Mia's just scatterbrained. Yves, could you help her find someone she can depend on…?"
Yves looked at the woman in front of him—frantic yet composed, vulnerable but unyielding—and for a moment, he didn't know what to say.
Instead, he simply wrapped his arms around her, pulling her gently into his embrace.

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