CHAPTER 140: CHAPTER 140: INTIMATE IN THE OFFICE

In the morning, I specially asked for an hour off from work to go see Attorney Quincy.

As soon as I sat down, I told her the news that Timothy Xavier had withdrawn the lawsuit.

I was a bit discouraged and asked, "Is there really no way to avoid waiting for those six months after the withdrawal for the divorce?"

Hannah Quincy sighed and said, "Unless you can find new key evidence strong enough to prove the marriage is irretrievably broken, then yes, you have to follow the process and wait a full six months."

My heart stirred, and I quickly pursued: "Then, that time Timothy Xavier gave our child to someone else to raise without my consent—does that count?"

"It counts. That can definitely be used as important evidence."

Just as Hannah’s words gave me a glimmer of hope, her next sentence doused it with cold water: "But this evidence is very difficult to prove. First, it’s been over three years, so lots of traces may have disappeared; second, it’s very hard to prove that you were completely unaware when he took the child away."

She paused and added, "If Timothy Xavier is determined not to get divorced, he might even turn it around and say you agreed to let someone else raise the child back then."

My fingertips chilled—I had to agree with Attorney Quincy.

With Timothy Xavier’s unscrupulous nature, he’d go to any lengths to drag out the divorce, even twisting the truth like that.

The hope that had just risen sank back down.

I left Attorney Quincy’s office, feeling utterly weighed down inside.

When I got back to the company, I’d barely sat down before Victoria Monroe hurried over, lowering her voice: "You’re finally back! President Sinclair is here—he hasn’t done an inspection in ages, and he was just asking for you. You really picked the wrong day for time off. It’s like every time you take leave, he shows up here."

I hadn’t expected Julian Sinclair to come by, especially considering how busy he’s been lately.

After all, Julian Sinclair never does anything pointless. If he dropped by today, something must be up.

So I made my way to Julian Sinclair’s office.

After knocking and entering, I found him smoking by the window.

When he saw me, he extinguished the cigarette and looked up at me: "Victoria Monroe said you didn’t have any interview assignments this morning. Where did you go?"

I struggled with whether I should mention Timothy Xavier withdrawing the lawsuit.

If I want to be with him in the future, now isn’t the time for him to interfere in my divorce case, or people will gossip.

I don’t want him drawn into that whirlpool of public opinion.

So I dodged his question and asked back, "Why are you looking for me?"

Julian Sinclair looked at me gravely and said, "Timothy Xavier withdrew the lawsuit."

I asked in surprise: "How did you know?"

"He told me." Julian’s tone was flat. "My mother woke up today. I met him at the hospital and he told me."

"Grandma woke up?"

My voice was tinged with joy, but thinking of Timothy withdrawing the lawsuit, that happiness was bittersweet.

Julian sensed my reaction and probed: "So, you already knew he withdrew the lawsuit? Why didn’t you tell me?"

Afraid of a misunderstanding, I hastened to explain: "I didn’t want my own problems dragging you into gossip. I figured I’d try to solve it myself first, and if I really couldn’t, then ask you for help."

Julian walked over to the desk and sat down, leaning back in the chair. His eyes flashed with interest behind his glasses as he asked, "So how are you solving it?"

I told him exactly what happened during my morning visit to Attorney Quincy, then ended with a sigh: "Attorney Quincy said to refile the suit I need solid evidence, but there’s no way Timothy Xavier will admit what he’s done."

Julian nodded thoughtfully after hearing me out—clearly agreeing with Attorney Quincy’s assessment.

After a brief silence, he said, "Serena Sawyer and Timothy Xavier will never admit it, unless you find his ’white moonlight.’ I guess, when he took the child away, it mostly had to do with that woman—she should know the truth. If you can find her and she’s willing to testify, then it’s easy."

I saw hope again and chased: "That woman who showed up in my mom’s hospital room the other day—have you tracked her down?"

Julian frowned, his tone darkening: "I had people look into it, but it’s too late. Someone tampered with your mother’s hospital room, even cleaned out your private cameras you installed before. And the hospital’s public surveillance, the floor your mom stayed on, just happened to be ’broken’ in that exact time slot."

"Of course..." Whatever slim hope I’d had was finally shattered.

They did it deliberately—cutting off all clues, hiding in the dark!

Suddenly something occurred to me, and I quickly added: "What about the parking garage? There must be surveillance there, right? Around ten in the morning, that woman called saying she was waiting by my car, told me to meet her in the garage!"

Julian glanced up at me, a half-resigned smile curling at his lips: "You actually believed that? I already had them pull all the garage footage. At that time, the only figure was the kidnapper—no sign of a second person."

He paused, voice more serious: "Honestly, I suspect the caller who lured you down and the one in your mother’s hospital room might not be the same person at all."

I sucked in a cold breath, anxiety crawling up my spine.

Having enemies lurking in the shadows while I’m exposed—it’s like being wrapped tight in an invisible net, unable to breathe.

Julian turned on his computer, focused on something on the screen.

I instinctively leaned over, and saw the monitor plastered with rows of CCTV thumbnails, all from the day I was kidnapped.

The footage was mostly hospital corridors, elevator lobbies, and parking lots.

Julian tapped the screen, eyes still trained on it, explaining to me: "If your mother’s floor surveillance was wiped, we check every person coming in or out of the hospital that day. If someone was really present, we’ll find a clue somewhere."

I watched the endless scenes scroll by on the screen—so many people passing through.

I felt my scalp tingling: "That’s a huge project... How long will it take to go through it all?"

Before I’d finished speaking, Julian had already slowed the playback speed, eyes sharply focused, not missing a second.

The warm yellow light fell on his distinct profile—even his tightly pressed lips seemed full of concentration.

Suddenly, a wave of unspeakable warmth welled in my heart. I couldn’t help but say softly, "Attorney Sinclair, it’s so good to have you."

He froze, and the next second unexpectedly reached out, grabbing my wrist and pulling me into his arms with a firm tug.

The warmth of his palm passed through my sleeve. His deep magnetic voice sounded in my ear: "What did you call me?"

I was stunned by his sudden move, reflexively responding: "Isn’t that what I always call you? Attorney Sinclair, or Mr. Sinclair, or President Sinclair... or do you want me to say your name directly?"

Julian’s brows arched slightly, his fingertips lightly stroking the skin of my wrist, saying with a touch of insistence: "Why not?"

"It’s... not what I’m used to. Plus, it feels a bit disrespectful." I awkwardly tried to pull away, but he held me even tighter.

He didn’t argue further—just released me, eyes drifting back to the screen. But the warmth around him suddenly faded, and he said nothing more.

I watched the tense line of his jaw and muttered to myself.

This man’s temperament is hard to figure out; he’s nothing like Timothy Xavier.

When Timothy gets angry, everyone around catches fire. But Julian Sinclair just bottles it up when he’s upset.

If he bottles it up for long...

I hesitated, then softened my voice and tentatively called, "Julian."

I thought it would be just two simple words, but his dark eyes suddenly seemed lit with sparks as he looked at me, so hot my heart skipped a beat.

He curled his thin lips in a subtle smile, pulled me back into his arms, his voice almost wilting with laughter: "Say it again."

Just then, the office door was suddenly pushed open, followed by a sharp little scream.

Jolie Joyce stood in the doorway, eyes wide, staring straight at me.

At this moment I was sitting on Julian Sinclair’s lap—there was no way to explain away the intimacy.

Julian’s face went cold instantly, all his warmth vanishing, as he barked: "Get out!"

Jolie shuddered, forgetting even to apologize, and hurriedly closed the door.

As soon as she left, I quickly got up off him, feeling utterly awkward.

"This is the office. I’d better keep calling you President Sinclair!"

I blurted it out and, without waiting for Julian to respond, practically bolted from his office.

But I’d only gone a few steps when Jolie blocked my way, squinting at me: "Zoe Ellison, really impressive!"

She folded her arms in front of her, her eyes dripping with mockery and jealousy: "What did I tell you before? You denied it, huh? Can’t talk your way out of this one. What’s your relationship with President Sinclair?"

I took a deep breath to quell my irritation, then met her stare: "Ask President Sinclair yourself."

My attitude pissed her off. She bit her lip: "You go seducing the boss in work hours and act like nothing’s wrong? Better watch out, or I’ll let the whole company know what you’re really like!"

She’d barely finished when an employee hurried in: "Secretary Joyce, President Sinclair wants to see you in his office now."

Jolie’s arrogance froze in place, panic flashing in her eyes.

But when she caught sight of me, she forcefully put on a haughty front.

She leaned in, speaking so only we could hear: "President Xavier’s cast-off whore trying to climb up to President Sinclair? He’s only playing with you. Snap out of your daydream!"

With that, she shoved past me, heels tapping as she marched toward Julian’s office without looking back.

...

Before Jolie opened the door, she fussed with the skirt of her blue suit, trying hard to maintain her usual sharp, professional look.

But when she entered the office and met Julian Sinclair’s gaze behind the desk, her whole posture collapsed, trembling as she said, "President Sinclair, I heard you wanted to see me."

Julian leaned back in his big leather chair, speaking with chilly indifference: "Secretary Joyce, who allowed you to burst in without knocking?"

Jolie’s mind raced.

When she saw Zoe Ellison go into Julian’s office, she’d been watching the door closely. The woman had been in there for twenty minutes, and still hadn’t come out.

Jolie knew something was up, so she’d purposely skipped knocking, hoping to catch them in the act.

And she did walk in on... that scene.

Just not what she’d expected—Julian didn’t look the least bit embarrassed and was even bringing it up to confront her?

With years of office politics under her belt, Jolie was nothing if not slick—she could lie on the spot no problem.

Jolie concealed her nervousness and said, "President Sinclair, I did knock—maybe you were too busy and didn’t hear."

But Julian wasn’t buying it, voice even icier: "Liar! Shall I pull up the security camera outside this office and see whether you knocked?"

Jolie panicked, her calm façade cracking, cold sweat beading at her temples.

She hurried up half a step, her voice now frantic: "President Sinclair, I... I had something urgent to report, so I got anxious and...forgot to knock."

Julian’s expression gave nothing away, asking blandly, "So what was so urgent?"

Jolie’s eyes flickered with calculation, lowering her voice to say mysteriously: "President Sinclair, honestly, I’ve known Zoe Ellison for years. That scene just now—I won’t tell anyone—but I want to warn you, that woman isn’t as simple as she looks."

Julian gazed at her, no curiosity at all in his eyes, just a deep, bottomless patience: "Oh? How so, exactly?"

"President Sinclair, maybe you don’t know—I used to be President Xavier’s assistant at Xavier Group. I know all about Zoe’s history."

She glanced at Julian, saw he wasn’t interrupting, and went on: "She was actually President Xavier’s kept woman back then, who knows what underhanded tricks she used to get him to marry her. But President Xavier only ever cared about Serena Sawyer, lost interest soon after, and now won’t even see her. Never thought she’d go chasing after you next!"

After Julian heard this twisted tale, he didn’t look shocked at all—in fact, he smiled coldly with a flash of understanding.

He nodded and spoke in a tone that left no argument: "Secretary Joyce, starting tomorrow, you don’t need to come to work anymore."

Jolie panicked, voice rising as she rushed up to explain: "I honestly did this for your own good! Zoe’s hated me ever since I got close to President Xavier—has she told you nasty stuff about me? Don’t let her fool you!"

"She hasn’t said anything."

Julian’s expression turned icy, every word clipped: "But you, Jolie, talk far too much. The Sinclair Group doesn’t need anyone who distorts the truth or spends their energy stirring up drama."

Jolie clenched her fists so hard her nails were digging into her palm.

She’d worked her ass off to move from Xavier to Sinclair, to become executive secretary. The high salary, the flattery—all of it had gone to her head.

She’d even hoped to snag Julian himself, even as a secret lover—anything!

But all of it was ruined by Zoe Ellison.

Looking at Julian’s unapproachable face, Jolie’s resentment and rage finally overcame her fear.

She forced herself to say, "President Sinclair, if you make me leave, I can’t promise what I saw in your office just now won’t get out."

"Is that a threat?" Julian’s laugh was pure mockery. "Jolie, you’d better think carefully about what you’re saying."

"It’s not a threat." Jolie gambled everything. "I just want to be on your side, President Sinclair. Only then can I truly help you keep things private—no one will gossip."

Julian wasn’t buying any of it.

If he let a two-bit workplace schemer threaten him, he may as well quit.

"Jolie, if you still want to work in this country, I’d advise you to keep your mouth shut. No boss will tolerate a backstabber who dares threaten their superior."

Then he picked up the office landline, dialed Sinclair Group HR, and ordered, "Terminate Jolie Joyce’s contract immediately. Whatever severance is required, you settle it with her. Handle this at once."

The moment he hung up, Jolie’s heart dropped to the floor.

She’d worn a brand-new silk blouse and put extra care into her makeup today.

She’d never imagined she’d end the day fired.

Even when Julian called her in, she’d assumed he’d want her to keep quiet, maybe even give her a payoff.

Or at least just a warning.

But she never thought it’d be so severe.

She guessed Zoe must’ve slandered her to Julian.

The suspicion sent Jolie’s bitterness to new heights.

Soon, news of her dismissal spread like wildfire.

Colleagues outside shot her looks of curiosity and schadenfreude, exchanging glances behind her back.

Just this morning, Jolie the executive secretary was bossing everyone around—now she’s out before lunch?

Passing Zoe Ellison’s desk, she caught Victoria Monroe gossiping with Zoe.

"Well, Jolie sure got famous now! I heard President Sinclair fired her himself. Who else gets that kind of treatment? Executive secretary really is special!"

The snark in Victoria’s voice made Jolie clench up.

She shot Zoe a poisonous glare: "Just wait! I won’t let this go!"

With that, she couldn’t take any more of the sympathetic or mocking stares, and walked straight out of the building.

She’d barely gone a few steps when a black van suddenly pulled up in front of her.

Jolie recognized the car—when Serena Sawyer stepped out on stilettos, she realized this was Timothy Xavier’s ride.

"Assistant Joyce?" Serena started, voice tinged with surprise. "Long time no see. What are you doing here?"

Jolie instantly put on a wounded expression, stepping forward: "Miss Sawyer, after President Xavier dismissed me, I transferred to Sinclair, became executive secretary. But now... I’ve been fired."

She said it with red-rimmed eyes, looking aggrieved.

Serena lifted an eyebrow, curiosity flickering: "But if Julian Sinclair hired you, why fire you so suddenly?"

"All thanks to that bitch Zoe Ellison! Back when I worked for President Xavier, she poisoned him against me and cost me my job. Now it’s even worse—I just walked in on something I shouldn’t have and she’s holding it against me, pushing President Sinclair to fire me!"

She paused, leaned in to Serena, "Miss Sawyer, when you were being targeted online, I bet ten to one that was her doing too—she’s a sly one, always hurting people behind the scenes!"

Serena’s eyes darkened, feigning interest: "Oh? So what did she say to Julian that made him so ruthless he’d fire such a capable staff member?"

Jolie adopted a mysterious look, glanced around, then lowered her voice: "Because I caught them dirty handed. President Sinclair and Zoe in the office..."

Halfway through, she deliberately trailed off and sighed. "But it’s not something I should share with outsiders. If word gets out, I’d never find another job."

Serena nodded knowingly, lips curled in a half-smile, and patted her arm: "Secretary Joyce, go wait in the car for me. I’ve got some things to handle. I’ll be down soon—we’ll talk."

Jolie’s eyes lit up—she knew Serena was going to help her, and hurried to the car: "Okay, I’ll wait for you!"

With that, she quickly got in and sat inside.

Meanwhile, Serena looked up at the office tower, knowing that Zoe Ellison was inside.

Who’ll win is still up in the air!

If Zoe won’t leave her any way out, stealing her man and ruining her career, then Serena would make Zoe understand she’s not someone to mess with!

With that, she strode into the office building.

Even with sunglasses and a hat, a few people recognized her.

"That looks like Serena Sawyer! What’s she doing here?"

A girl’s voice was excited.

But her coworker replied, "Why get excited? She’s a disgraced celeb—radio and TV won’t touch her now. What, you want her autograph?"

The girl laughed: "True. Her autographed photos used to go for thousands—now, toss ’em on the street and nobody’d pick them up."

Serena heard it and felt her heart burn, wanting to run up and claw the girls bloody.

But she held herself back and pressed the elevator button.

...

At that moment, I was at my desk working with Shaun Sinclair’s team.

Just then, a colleague said, "Zoe, you’ve got a visitor!"

I couldn’t get away and figured it was an assistant from a partner firm, so I said, "Ask her to wait in the break room. I’ll be done soon!"

Soon as I finished my work, I rushed to the break room.

But I didn’t expect to find Serena Sawyer sitting inside.

If I’d known it was her, I wouldn’t have come!

I turned to leave, but she called out: "Miss Ellison, can we talk?"

I stood by the door, didn’t even look back, and said, "I’ve got nothing to say to you. Please get out of my company, or I’ll call security."

What I didn’t expect was for her to suddenly drop to her knees, eyes red: "I know that dirt on X trashing me is your doing. I came to beg you, please show me mercy! Timothy doesn’t want me now, all I have left is my career. I’m on my knees, begging you not to go after me anymore!"

She sounded so desperate, as if I’d done her some unforgivable evil.

But this woman was always cunning—who knew if she was secretly recording, trying to drag me down?

Even though I knew it was Vera Quincy’s work, Serena never showed mercy to Raina Ainsworth back then either.

I put on a puzzled face: "Miss Sawyer, I don’t understand what you’re talking about. I’ve got work to do, so I’ll be going now."

Just like that, I didn’t waste another word with her and left the break room.

I didn’t see the look in Serena’s eyes behind me.

Nor did I guess that her single visit and our brief exchange of barely two sentences would almost ruin me and Doris in the days to come!