Hitched & Hitched Again: A Comedy of Marital Mayhem novel Chapter 1217

Winona didn’t say a word.

She glanced up at the living room wall, where the wedding portrait hung—a big, cheesy photo of her and Zane in full wedding attire, smiling like they had the world at their feet. She let out a dry, bitter laugh.

Then, in one swift motion, her expression hardened. She grabbed the closest thing at hand—a decorative vase—and hurled it right at the picture.

CRASH!

Glass shards exploded everywhere. The photo landed face-down on the hardwood floor.

Winona didn’t stop. She grabbed a golf club from the umbrella stand and stormed through the room, smashing every framed wedding photo she could find.

She didn’t touch anything else. Only the wedding photos.

Priscilla shrieked from the hallway, her voice shrill and angry. “Zane! Are you just going to stand there and let her wreck our home? She’s tearing this family apart!”

Zane stood stiffly, arms crossed. He said nothing, just watched Winona with an icy look.

As far as he was concerned, Winona was just throwing a tantrum because she had nowhere else to vent her frustration. She hated him, but there was nothing she could really do. Ridley was under his thumb. Winona didn’t dare reach out to Tarquin or Elysia for help—she was on her own.

Zane figured he had her right where he wanted her. Let her smash the photos—he didn’t care. He would’ve trashed them himself, anyway. Sooner or later, this whole place would be filled with wedding photos of him and Elysia instead.

When every last wedding photo lay in ruins, Winona finally stopped, breathing hard. She felt a strange sense of relief.

She headed to the kitchen, poured herself a glass of water, took a few gulps, then came back and sat on the couch across from Zane.

“Alright,” she said flatly, “let’s talk. What do you want?”

Zane looked her straight in the eye. “I have the antidote. It’ll cure your dad. If you do as I say and transfer all the Newsom family assets to me, I’ll hand it over.”

This was what Tarquin was most worried about—it involved Karl Town and that mysterious figure. They’d even faked Ridley’s infection just to get Zane to slip up.

Zane leaned back, confidence oozing. “There’s no cure on the market—but I have it. Play ball, and I’ll give it to you right now.”

“I don’t believe you,” Winona shot back. “Not until my dad’s better. There’s no way I’m going along with your demands.”

Zane was silent for a moment, then reached into his pocket. “Fine. I’ll give you a sample. Try it on your dad. See for yourself.”

He set a small bottle down on the coffee table. “That’s the cure. But it’s not enough. You want a full recovery? You’ll need way more.”

Winona picked up the bottle, turning it slowly in her hand.

In her hidden earpiece, Elysia’s voice crackled to life.