CHAPTER 148: CHAPTER 148: THE MAN BEHIND HER APPEARS

The news of my mother’s death was quickly exposed by the media.

The public outrage, already boiling over, instantly exploded like a new keg of gunpowder.

"Timothy Xavier really is a monster! He finally managed to get her mom killed!"

"It’s the entire Sawyer family that’s to blame! The equipment designers are her dad and her brother, why didn’t anyone expose the fakes sooner? Why now of all times? They’re doing this on purpose!"

"The Sawyer father and son are both the scum of their industry, and that bitch Serena has a heart of pure poison. The whole family should be nailed to the pillar of shame!"

Online abuse came crashing down on Timothy Xavier and the Sawyers like a tidal wave, but especially on Serena Sawyer, almost drowning her in the spit of Internet users.

Her prior incident at the hospital—someone dumped feces on her—was dug up again, filling the comment section with "serves her right" and "karma."

Then Timothy Xavier posted a statement on The Xavier Group’s official account.

He didn’t make excuses for himself. He simply, calmly wrote: "The passing of my mother-in-law, Mrs. Eleanor Thorne, brings me immense grief and guilt. As her son-in-law, I failed to protect her, and this will be my lifelong regret. I will take full responsibility for all funeral arrangements and will ensure she rests in peace. I know my past mistakes brought my wife irreparable harm. I won’t run away, nor will I shirk responsibility. In the future, I’ll do whatever it takes to make up for my wrongs and own up to my duties."

With that statement, you could feel a subtle shift in public opinion.

In what used to be a one-sided barrage of hate, different voices slowly began to surface.

"Honestly, Timothy Xavier’s move is actually kind of manly. At least he didn’t go hide like the Sawyers. He’s got the guts to face up to it, unlike those losers who only know how to pass the buck."

"Yeah, cheating was wrong, but after his mother-in-law died, he stepped up to handle things and wants to make amends. Shows he still has a conscience. Maybe he deserves a chance to turn things around?"

"Compared to the Sawyers, Timothy Xavier is way more responsible. I bet he’s been tricked by that Sawyer bitch! Weren’t we all fooled by her too?"

"Give me a break! Hindsight is 20/20. Her mom’s already dead, what use are these words now?"

"..."

I sat in my room, looking at his statement; it only felt bitterly ironic.

Just then, Doris came in.

The kids don’t really understand what’s happened; all they can tell is that I’m in a bad mood.

Doris asked cautiously, "Mom, Dad says he wants to talk to you. But he can’t reach you by phone, so he called me instead."

After she spoke, Doris handed me her little cellphone.

I ignored it, didn’t pick up.

Doris put her phone to her ear and said to Timothy Xavier, "Dad, Mom doesn’t really want to talk to you."

He probably had her switch to speaker. Next, his voice drifted into my room: "Zoe, I truly want to make it up to you. I’ve hired a professional team and will make sure Mom’s funeral is dignified. There are details I’d like to discuss, to hear your preferences."

I pressed the phone off immediately, looked Doris in the eye, and said seriously, "From now on, you can answer calls from your dad, but I don’t want to. Understand?"

Doris blinked, startled by my tone, then nodded timidly and left the room.

I never expected Timothy Xavier, unable to reach me, would go straight to X, apply for a personal account, post his first update, and tag me directly.

"Zoe, I know you don’t want to see me right now, or hear my explanation. I’ve already hired the most professional funeral team in the business, all arrangements are in place. I just hope you’ll give me a chance—let’s put your mother’s funeral first and handle things together, okay?"

The attached images were credentials from the funeral team, plus a full process plan—thorough and meticulously detailed.

He’d had this account barely any time, and already he’d racked up hundreds of thousands of followers. Everyone was lurking for the latest drama.

The comment section instantly blew up.

Those voices praising Timothy Xavier for "being responsible" now completely dominated:

"Honestly, Zoe Ellison is kind of over the line this time. No matter what Timothy Xavier did wrong, he’s still the son-in-law. Him attending the funeral gives Mom more dignity."

"In the face of death, all those grudges should wait. Timothy Xavier has done so much, but Zoe Ellison’s still acting like a kid. Seems pretty cold-hearted."

"We care about facts, not faces! Timothy’s willing to take responsibility, Zoe needs to meet him halfway and finish the funeral. That’s what matters!"

I looked at these fair-weather keyboard warriors and could only laugh.

I replied to Timothy Xavier directly on X with three words: "You’re not worthy."

...

For my mother’s funeral, I decided to keep everything simple.

She was in a coma for twenty years; any former friends long scattered across the world.

Now, the only ones truly mourning her are me, my parents from the Ellison family, and a few close friends.

A grand display meant nothing to her. It was better to choose a quiet cemetery, let her rest in silence, far from the chaos of the world.

The burial was scheduled for three days later; when I checked the calendar, I realized—by coincidence, that day was my birthday.

Over twenty years ago, on that day, she bore me into this world in agonizing pain; twenty-plus years later, I’d have to personally lay her to rest in the cold earth.

...

The day of the funeral, there was no rain; the sky was a soft gray, like a thin veil pulled across it.

The cemetery was very quiet, just the gentle rustle of pine needles in the wind.

I wore plain black, holding my mother’s urn in both hands. It wasn’t heavy, but to me it felt as heavy as a thousand pounds.

Inside were twenty years of my persistence.

My Ellison parents stood beside me.

Jenna and Madam Sinclair came too.

Madam Sinclair carried a bouquet of white chrysanthemums, softly placed it at the gravestone, and murmured, "Eleanor, go in peace. Don’t worry, we’ll take good care of Zoe."

Julian Sinclair stood behind me, half a step away—not close, but his silent presence was a shield around me.

When the staff lowered the urn, I finally couldn’t hold it in, crouched at the gravestone, pressing my forehead against its cold, hard surface.

"Mom, today is my birthday." I said softly, voice hoarse and barely audible.

The wind blew by, with that special chill of a cemetery.

For a moment, it felt as if her hand brushed the top of my head, as gentle as when I was little.

She bore me, gave me life; now she’s died for me, cutting the last tie between me and the Xavier family, in the harshest possible way.

From now on, I won’t have birthdays anymore.

...

When I left the cemetery, the afternoon sun pierced the clouds, casting a pale glow, but nothing could lift the gloom inside me.

As I approached the iron gates, a figure caught my eye.

Timothy Xavier stood under a camphor tree not far off, black suit perfectly tailored, tie neat, but his face was the color of ashes.

His gaze never left me, full of tangled emotions.

There was regret, pain—and a trace of pleading I could barely detect.

"He’s been here all morning," Julian’s voice sounded quietly at my ear, steady, comforting. "I had someone keep him outside so he wouldn’t disturb your mother’s peace."

I nodded lightly, said nothing, kept my face blank as I walked towards the waiting car.

Passing him, I didn’t even spare him a glance.

But just as I reached for the car door, his broken voice rang out behind me, desperate, urgent: "Zoe!"

He hurried toward me, voice ragged and frantic: "It wasn’t me, I didn’t kill your mom! I swear, I never wanted this! I know what she means to you—how could I ever hurt her? It’s the Sawyers who lost it—Peter Sawyer is the real culprit!"

He’d lost all his former composure, babbling wildly in front of everyone.

I didn’t turn around, just spoke, each word sharp: "But all of this started because of you."

Then I opened the car door and got in.

Julian joined me in the car, instructing the driver to leave.

The car pulled away slowly; through the mirror, I saw Timothy Xavier still standing there.

But inside, I felt nothing.

His regret, his pain—they meant nothing to me now.

My mother’s life, all I’ve suffered—nothing he says erases that.

From now on, my world won’t let him set foot in it again.

The car cruised smoothly home, the city rolling by outside as I grew farther from Mom with every mile.

"Leo Grant’s already organized the evidence and submitted it to court."

Julian’s voice broke the silence; he turned to me, calm and direct. "I’m pushing for an expedited trial. Don’t worry about the divorce—I’ll take care of everything."

I turned, looked at his distinct profile, warmth welling up inside me, but all I could manage was a faint, pale smile: "Thank you."

My mother’s death settled on me like a boulder, suffocating; even the once-urgent need to divorce now felt distant and blurry.

Julian didn’t try to comfort me, just gently laid my head on his shoulder.

...

After my mom died, my life seemed to go back to normal.

I took Doris and Sharon to preschool, went to and from work, dealt with business, started a new novel and kept updating.

I tried to stay busy, but only at night, alone in bed, did all the pain I’d been suppressing surge up and drown me.

I kept dreaming of my mom—dreamed of the equipment being removed and her faint breathing sputtering out; dreamed of her cold name on the gravestone; dreamed of her appearing before me, demanding, Why did you give up on me?

Every time, I’d wake in terror, drenched in sweat, my heart torn open, gasping for breath.

But the next morning, just like always, I walked into the office as if I was fine.

In the early days after everything happened, people stared—sympathy, curiosity.

Now, they’d gotten used to it, stopped asking questions.

Julian turned up almost every day; I know he’s worried, just wants to see me.

But I still haven’t managed to crawl out of the darkness since Mom died; I don’t dare think about us, about him and me.

Luckily, he never pushed.

One morning, as I was typing, Victoria Monroe came over. "Have you heard? Peter Sawyer got taken by the cops. They’re investigating murder—that’s your mom’s case."

"Murder?"

I couldn’t help but glance toward the CEO’s office.

Victoria handed me some internal documents and explained, "He’s in a bind now! If the equipment isn’t faked, it’s straight-up murder; but if it’s faked, after burning all those R&D funds, The Xavier Group won’t let him off. They’ve just released a statement—they’ll hold Peter Sawyer legally accountable, no mercy."

She frowns, "But I wonder, who brought the murder charge?"

I didn’t answer, but I knew—without a doubt, this was Julian’s doing.

...

Meanwhile, at The Xavier Group’s front gate—

"Let me in! I need to see Timothy! He can’t treat my father like this! He can’t just fire my brother either!"

Serena Sawyer, who used to strut through The Xavier Group like the boss’s wife, couldn’t even get past the security guards now.

The moment she tried to force her way in, the guard shoved her aside, looking at her like trash and sneering, "Stupid bitch, just a worn-out whore Timothy’s done with. He’s already announced the real Mrs. Xavier—are you still dreaming of being Mrs. Xavier?"

"You—you dare talk to me that way!"

Serena had done up her makeup meticulously before coming.

But now, her gaunt face twisted, pointing at the guard: "I’ll remember you! Even a dying camel’s bigger than a horse! Wait till I see Timothy—then you’ll be out on your ass!"

"Ha! As if!"

The guard spat on her coldly. "I’m waiting—let’s see if President Xavier listens to his wife or you, you bitch!"

With that, he shoved Serena out onto the street. "Bad luck charm! The Xavier Group’s finally getting past its crisis—don’t come near or you’ll pollute President Xavier with your curse!"

Serena was so furious she trembled, scratching the ground until her fingers bled.

Just then, a car pulled up beside her.

The man inside rushed out, lifted her up, and settled her in the car.

Declan Ellison was both angry and worried, pulling her into his arms. "Why do you keep putting yourself through this?"

Serena glanced at this dumb lapdog, full of disdain.

But considering she might still need Declan in the future, she put on a pitiful act, sniffling, "Timothy Xavier is vicious! He called the cops on my dad and fired my brother! Declan, what am I supposed to do?"

Declan gently patted her back. "Serena, just be honest with Timothy. Your heart belongs to me, come with me. I’ll love you, treat you right."

Serena replied, "But I can’t give up! I refuse to let you keep living under his shadow. You grew up as friends, but why’s Timothy been crushing you for years? Everyone says Declan’s not as good as him! Everything I’ve done was to help you get your hands on The Xavier Group’s top trade secrets—to let you finally be proud for once! You know that! You should help me win back Timothy’s trust, not beg me to quit."

Declan instantly softened, kissed her and said, "I know, I know you’ve always been with him for me! But I hate seeing you suffer, hate watching you take all this humiliation. I don’t want anything else. I admit I can’t beat Timothy Xavier and I won’t try anymore. Just come with me, please?"

A flash of disgust flickered in Serena’s eyes before she softened her voice: "Declan, even in my dreams I want to be with you. But my only wish is for you to get stronger—you mustn’t lose to Timothy Xavier. After everything I’ve endured from him and Zoe Ellison, if we just gave up now, we’d be trampled for life. Are you really okay with that?"

Declan went silent.

It’s true, Timothy Xavier had outshone him since they were kids. Over the years, while Declan did prop up the Ellisons, Timothy snatched plenty of business, always overshadowing him. That’s why he and Serena hatched their plan: have Serena watch Timothy’s kids to get close and snag The Xavier Group’s secrets.

He still remembered the last time Timothy was hospitalized, when Serena stole info from his computer and handed it over—Declan landed that big deal, feeling like top dog for once.

It was addictive.

And only if he’s powerful can Serena be happy.

Seeing Declan hesitate, Serena pressed on, "For our big plan, we’ve kept our relationship secret all these years. I’ve been with you since I was sixteen. For that, we even lost a child. We’ve sacrificed so much just to take The Xavier Group and let the Ellisons—and you—throw off Timothy’s shadow. Don’t forget."

"Serena..."

Declan’s eyes reddened; he hugged her tight. "We’ve lost more than just one child. If that kid had made it, she’d be over four now. I’ve searched for years, but there’s no trace. She probably isn’t even alive."

A look of guilt flashed across Serena’s face, but she quickly feigned innocence: "It’s my fault, I didn’t watch her and someone took her..."

"How can I blame you?" Declan comforted her. "You were only eighteen, didn’t know anything when you had my baby. Anyway, forget it—it’s me who let her down. I should’ve brought her straight home to raise at the Ellisons."

Serena had no intention of discussing the child she’d deliberately abandoned, so she changed the subject: "I need your help. Zoe Ellison destroyed me, Timothy Xavier threw all the blame on me. If I can’t snatch The Xavier Group for you entirely, I’ll never be at peace."

"Okay, whatever you ask."

Declan was dying to go public with Serena.

But he couldn’t say no to anything she wanted.

After a pause, Declan asked, "So what should I do to help you?"

"Find something out for me."

A calculating look in Serena’s eyes as she whispered in Declan’s ear.

Declan was shocked, "Timothy’s mom is into that kind of thing?"

"Heh, bet you didn’t expect that!" Serena snarled. "That old hag wants to burn her bridges? She’d better check if she’s got what it takes to tear the bridge down!"

Declan grinned, nodding. "You always know what to do! The Xavier Group is still alive thanks to Douglas Xavier’s old contacts. After Timothy’s scandal, if Sophia Kendall gets exposed now, he’s totally finished!"

Serena laughed too. "So, if Sophia wants to keep her secret, she’ll do anything I ask."

Declan agreed enthusiastically.

To keep Declan working for her, Serena wrapped her arms around his neck, making no effort to hide what she wanted.

The driver was so embarrassed, he jumped out of the car.

There on the roadside, Serena, starved for comfort, couldn’t wait any longer to jump Declan.

...

The Sinclair Estate.

Just like that, half a month went by; it was now the seventeenth on the lunar calendar.

After work, Julian Sinclair had just walked in when Madam Sinclair called him over.

Deep worry etched across her wrinkled face as she said, "I heard Doris say she had a nightmare last night and went to find Zoe at three in the morning. Zoe hadn’t even slept—she’d been sitting in the window, gazing at the moon."

Julian frowned a little. "Her mother’s death hit her hard. No matter how much others comfort her, it won’t help. She needs time to process it herself..."

Madam sighed: "This whole half-month, she’s been eating less and less. She was already thin, now her face is smaller than my palm. If she keeps going like this, how will her health stand up? Even Doris and Sharon are secretly asking me why she’s sad. I don’t even know what to tell them."

Julian nodded, his voice lower than usual: "Is she upstairs now?"

"She just got home, didn’t even take off her coat—went straight to her room." The old lady sighed, her eyes full of helplessness.

Julian said nothing more, turning to walk up the stairs.

At Zoe Ellison’s bedroom door, he paused, raised his hand, and knocked—soft and careful.

The door opened quickly. Zoe stood there, still in her work clothes, looking like she’d been daydreaming since she got home.

Julian’s brow furrowed; he had words on the tip of his tongue, but swallowed them down.

If he wasn’t absolutely sure, he wouldn’t risk giving her hope and then disappointment.

After a moment’s consideration, he changed the topic, forcing his voice lighter: "The court messaged back today; those new pieces of evidence, they’ve accepted. Give it another half month at most and the case’ll be reopened. Timothy should have gotten the memo today."

Zoe only managed the faintest smile, voice as airy as a feather: "Thanks."

Those same two words.

Julian felt a stab of helplessness, and added, "Peter Sawyer’s already been sentenced, ten years—plenty of fraud in his research."

Zoe met him with the same forced smile as before, as if she couldn’t care less what became of the Sawyers.

Julian saw right through her.

He was silent a few seconds, then said, "Zoe, I know you don’t care what happens to the Sawyers. Deep down, you only wish—for your mother to come back to life, right?"

Zoe’s eyes finally flickered, pupils shrinking, then dimming again.

No matter what punishment the Sawyers got—even if they paid with their lives—in Zoe’s eyes, none of it could ever return her mother.

Julian reached out, gently clasping her cold fingers, each word steady: "Zoe, if you need time to grieve, I’ll wait as long as it takes. Whenever you’re ready to come out, I’ll be here. But those who hurt you and your mom, I won’t let a single one off. Even if it only lessens a fraction of your pain, I’ll do it."