CHAPTER 154: CHAPTER 154: JULIAN SINCLAIR SAID HE WAS WILLING

I refused to open the door, afraid that once I faced him, I wouldn’t be able to say the words of rejection.

Outside the door, Julian Sinclair said again, "If you don’t open, I’ll wait here until you do."

I really had no way around his stubbornness.

I took a deep breath, turned the lock, and slowly opened the door.

I hadn’t seen Julian in a few days; he seemed thinner, though the dignified, cold pride about him hadn’t diminished a bit.

The shopping bag in his hand, printed with the imported supermarket’s logo, looked out of place against his tailored suit.

My thoughts suddenly drifted back to the past.

Back when we hadn’t confessed our feelings, he would always use the excuse of "passing by" every few days to bring groceries to my house to cook.

All his care and tenderness were wrapped up in the everyday warmth of the kitchen.

But now, it’s clear that not much time has passed, yet it already feels like another lifetime.

Julian didn’t mention those rumors, nor did he comfort me, as if everything online had nothing to do with him.

He just carried the shopping bag straight into the living room, heading for the fridge.

Opening the fridge door, he said blandly, "You’ve been staying at The Sinclair Family lately, so of course the fridge here is empty."

As he spoke, he started placing fresh fruits and vegetables and meat from the bag into the fridge, moving so naturally it seemed like it was his own home.

I just stood there, nose stinging, on the verge of tears.

After holding back my feelings for so long, I forced myself to say, suppressing my sobs, "Thank you, Attorney Sinclair. But from now on, I can handle these things myself, we..."

"Where are the kids?"

Before I could finish, he interrupted.

He closed the fridge, turned to look at me, and said, "I brought them gifts from my business trip this time."

My words stuck in my throat. Before I could respond, I heard footsteps behind me.

Doris and Sharon ran out of their room, hand in hand.

Seeing Julian, Doris instinctively stopped, standing still, a hint of timidity in her eyes.

Sharon, on the other hand, ran straight up to him, carefree, tilting her face up and asking, "Uncle Sinclair, you’re here! I knew wherever Auntie Ellison is, you’ll be there!"

Then, catching sight of the shopping bag Julian put on the table, her eyes lit up, "Are you going to personally cook for us tonight?"

Julian’s lips curled up, and he gently tapped Sharon’s nose, voice warm: "Yes. Want to eat?"

Sharon nodded enthusiastically and said, "Of course! Uncle Sinclair’s so busy, it’s been so long since we’ve had your cooking!"

Julian glanced at me, seemingly unintentionally.

Then, he took out two beautifully wrapped boxes, "Here, I brought you both gifts."

Sharon’s eyes brightened instantly. She took the box and cheerfully said, "Thank you, Uncle Sinclair!"

Doris stood aside, looking at the present in Sharon’s hands, eyes full of envy, but too shy to approach.

Just then, Julian handed Doris an identical box, speaking gently, "This is for you."

Doris froze, her little face full of surprise. She whispered, "I get one too?"

"Yeah." Julian smiled softly, "Do you like it?"

Doris quickly stepped forward to take the box, blushing as she smiled, "I do. Thank you, Uncle Sinclair."

"What do you two want for dinner?" Julian looked back at the girls, "I’ll cook for you."

Sharon immediately started naming dishes excitedly.

Doris quietly added her favorites, and even told Julian what foods I liked.

Julian agreed to everything and turned to the kitchen.

I watched his back, a whirlpool of emotions in my chest.

I couldn’t bring myself to say anything sensitive in front of the kids, so I just watched as he skillfully tied on an apron, pulled food from the fridge, and got to work in a calmly organized manner.

Only after the girls ran back to their room, happily clutching their gifts and ripping the packages open, did I finally have the courage to go into the kitchen.

Julian’s tall figure looked a little cramped in the kitchen, yet he still handled everything with ease.

He was washing vegetables, the sound of running water loud in the sink.

He looked so calm, almost as if those venomous rumors hadn’t affected him at all.

But I knew he was only putting on a brave face, just trying not to worry me.

After all, Madam Sinclair was incredibly important to him; there’s no way he didn’t know she’s gotten sick from anger, or missed all the filthy insults circulating online about him.

I stood in the kitchen doorway, watching his busy back. My throat felt stuffed with cotton—I wanted to say something, but had no idea where to start.

At some point, the water had stopped running.

Julian spoke first, his voice carrying a trace of near-imperceptible compromise: "That day... I’m sorry, I didn’t control my emotions. Since I’ve chosen you, I choose Doris too. You don’t need to worry. I won’t let her be wronged again."

With that, he went back to cooking.

I recalled how he’d prepared identical gifts for Doris and Sharon, feeling as if warmth had seeped into my heart.

I knew, through his actions, he was silently showing me he was willing to change for me.

But maybe that’s exactly why I couldn’t be so selfish.

"Attorney Sinclair, we..." Each word was heavy, "We have no future anymore."

Julian’s back stiffened abruptly—the air seemed to freeze in the kitchen.

My heart hurt like it’d been slashed, but I pushed myself to go on, "I think..."

"Is it because of everything online?"

He suddenly turned to face me, his dark eyes impossibly deep, like a night sky with no stars, "I’m already taking care of it. Trust me—within a week, this will all die down. The accounts and websites that need suing, I’ll sue. Any accountability, I’ll pursue. The people who stuck their heads out are already facing consequences—no one else will dare to speak up again."

I could see the fury brewing at the bottom of his eyes, a barely restrained anger from having his boundaries violated.

I knew the public attacks had affected him for a long time; he’d just been powering through, not wanting me to worry.

But he understood better than anyone—there were so many people in China, he couldn’t silence every voice.

As long as we were part of society, these rumors and gossip would follow us like shadows. There’s no escaping them, ever.

I couldn’t let Julian spend his whole life being pointed at and judged because of me.

Seeing me speechless, he put down what he was doing and walked over, step by step, until he stood right in front of me: "You stay home for now, let me handle the rest. I promise, by the time you go back to work, no one will dare talk about all this nonsense."

He leaned in slightly, as if to hug me.

I, however, recoiled as if burned, backing away sharply to avoid his touch.

"But Attorney Sinclair, what you said that day was right."

I forced myself to meet his gaze, my voice purposely cold, "Even now, I haven’t decided about divorce. Do you really think I’m worth it—for a woman like me?"

Julian frowned faintly, but then laughed softly, the smile bitterly knowing: "I know what you’re doing. You’re trying to push me away, not drag me down, not ruin The Sinclair Family. I get it! About what I said before, I apologize."

His clarity only made my heart hurt more.

All I could do was bite down and say the lines I’d rehearsed in my mind countless times: "You’re too cocky! Julian, let me spell it out for you. These past few days I’ve figured it out—being with you only helps me deal with a lot of hassles. My feelings for Timothy Xavier go back twenty years. You can’t erase that overnight."

With that, I pulled out my phone and opened a long-unused QQ account.

I’d registered it back in school; Timothy Xavier was its only friend.

The profile and albums inside were filled with our memories, from school uniforms to wedding gowns.

Ever since Timothy cheated, I hadn’t logged in again.

Now, it was the sharpest weapon I had to push Julian away.

I quickly scrolled to the most dazzling photo, shoved my phone toward him: "See? I have all these memories with Timothy. They’re carved into my bones and heart. Being with you was just a way to numb myself. I thought if I shifted my feelings to you, I could forget him. But I can’t."

In the photo, my younger self clung to Timothy’s neck, laughing carelessly.

Sunlight drenched us, even the air tasted of happiness.

Julian’s eyes fixed on the picture, pupils contracting, as if stabbed by the happiness in it.

I had worried these words might not be enough for him to let go, afraid he’d stubbornly refuse to quit.

But he just stared at the photo in silence, and after a very long time, sighed and rasped, weariness deep in his voice, "I’m willing to let you keep using me. Zoe Ellison, what if I’m willing?"

In that moment, it was as if my heart had been torn in two, each breath felt unbearably painful.

I couldn’t bring myself to look at the plea and loneliness in his eyes, so I forced out each word: "But I’m not willing. Being with you is already interfering with my life. All I wanted was to use you to solve my problems, but now, I just have more."

Julian said nothing, only gazed at me quietly.

After a long time, all the turbulent emotions in his deep eyes gradually faded, until only silence remained.

He nodded slowly, neither refuting nor asking more, as if he accepted my verdict.

He turned and picked up his jacket by the door. As he passed me, his steps paused just a moment, but he didn’t look back.

I could feel that short hesitation was the last break between us.

From now on, our lives would only grow further apart, like intersecting straight lines, diverging into the distance.

The door softly closed, making a quiet "click," but it struck my heart like a heavy blow.

I couldn’t hold on anymore. My legs gave out, and I collapsed against the cold wall, tears falling like strings of beads breaking apart.

I bit hard on my lips, forcing my sobs back into my throat.

My chest ached, every breath sharp and sour.

I knew, I’d pushed away the one willing to shelter me, told the cruelest lie, made the most resolute choice.

But I had no other way. I couldn’t let Julian Sinclair’s life be ruined because of me—a life that should be bright and open.

...

Outside the kitchen, two small figures peeked through the cracked door at the weeping woman inside.

Sharon asked, her childish voice confused: "Why did Uncle Sinclair leave? Why is Auntie Ellison crying so hard?"

Doris frowned deeply, her brow twisted.

Just moments earlier, she’d steeled herself to go apologize to Uncle Sinclair in the kitchen.

She shouldn’t have spilled the surprise and nearly ruined the birthday party Uncle Sinclair had planned for Mom.

But just as she reached the doorway, she heard Mom and Uncle Sinclair talking.

Mom said she hadn’t forgotten Dad, that she and Dad were childhood sweethearts.

She herself had hoped that her parents would get back together.

But hearing her mother cry made Doris feel even more conflicted.

She’d always assumed her mom didn’t like Dad anymore.

But just now, it sounded like Mom still liked Dad, didn’t it?

As Doris stared dazedly at the door, her phone vibrated in her pocket—it was Dad sending a voice message, asking how Mom was feeling.

Doris looked at the screen, suddenly thinking that all the grown-ups were acting weird today.

Uncle Sinclair, Auntie Jenna, and now Dad—all their attention was swirling around Mom.

And Mom, she was crying.

She slipped into the bathroom and called her dad.

In his office, Timothy saw her name flash on the screen and immediately waved off his staff, picking up almost instantly.

"Doris, is Mom upset? Did she eat dinner tonight?"

"Dad, Mom just cried." Doris said gloomily, sighing.

"She cried?" Timothy’s voice tightened right away, then he said, "It’s my fault, I made her cry. Is she still crying now?"

Doris paused, then told him everything she’d heard: "I don’t think it was you. Uncle Sinclair came earlier, and Mom told him she couldn’t forget you. Uncle Sinclair left, and then Mom started crying."

On the other end, Timothy was instantly reinvigorated, his tense body relaxing, his voice lifting several degrees higher.

"She really said that? You... you heard it clearly?"

"Yeah, I thought Mom hated you!"

There was a hint of realization in Doris’s voice, "I didn’t expect Mom to say she cares a lot about you. She said all sorts of things I didn’t really get."

Leaning back in his chair, Timothy couldn’t help a smile creeping to his lips.

He knew it, his twenty years with Zoe Ellison couldn’t just be wiped out by Julian in a few months.

Their bond as husband and wife was never something outsiders could sever.

Gently, he said into the phone, "Doris, look after Mom at home. I’ll come by soon. By the way, did you eat with her?"

Doris replied honestly, "Uncle Sinclair was supposed to make dinner, but then he left. Mom started crying, so we haven’t eaten yet."

Timothy saw his chance to step up and asked quickly, "Is there anything you want to eat?"

Doris said, "Mom’s in a bad mood. I don’t want anything!"

She didn’t mention that Uncle Sinclair could cook delicious dishes, and Dad could barely make porridge without burning it.

As soon as he hung up, Timothy’s mood brightened considerably.

Though Zoe was still caught in a storm online, at least she was finally honest about her feelings, admitting she still loved him.

As for the rumors, well, those were Julian’s mess—why should Zoe have to suffer through them?

Just then, Jack Sullivan rushed in, looking grim: "President Xavier, we found out—the anonymous account posting leaks online was indeed Jolie Joyce’s."

He handed over a file, "Ever since she was fired from Xavier Group, she’s held a grudge against Madame. I heard that when she worked at The Sinclair Group, she went out of her way to make things hard for Madame and got fired by Julian Sinclair. She’s probably hated Attorney Sinclair for a long time."

Timothy’s gaze went cold, the air around him suddenly oppressive: "I don’t care what grudges she has with Julian; if she targets Zoe, she won’t walk away unscathed."

Jack paused, then said, "Julian’s already made a move. No one can find Jolie anywhere in Veridia now, but I asked around, her family’s place was trashed after the news broke. Neighbors say they heard her screaming, and in the end, she was dragged away by someone. No clue where she’s gone."

Timothy ground his teeth.

Damn Julian, beating him to it again!

But after what Doris just told him, he didn’t really care.

No matter how capable Julian was, Zoe’s heart still belonged to him—so what could he do?

Remembering that his wife and daughter hadn’t eaten, Timothy grabbed his jacket and headed out, steps light.

As long as Zoe wanted him, even if she hadn’t forgiven him yet, he had plenty of ways to prove his sincerity.

He’d already planned to swing by Doris’s favorite dessert shop for her favorite ice cream cake.

Then he’d pick up Zoe’s favorite dishes at that private kitchen she liked.

Just as his car pulled out of the underground garage, his phone rang.

Seeing Serena Sawyer’s name on the screen, Timothy instantly frowned.

He had no desire to answer her call.

But that night’s events flashed through his mind, and guilt made him finally hit accept.

"Timothy..." Serena’s voice was weak, on the verge of tears, "I’ve had terrible stomach pain for two days, can’t eat at all..."

"Stomach pain? Did you see a doctor?"

Timothy sounded perfunctory, not easing up on the gas even a little.

But Serena’s next words doused his good mood instantly: "I saw one—the doctor said..."

She hesitated, then added aggrievedly, "He said that night, you... you were too rough, you hurt me."

Timothy’s fingers clenched hard on the steering wheel, knuckles whitening.

The last thing he wanted to revisit was that drunken night.

He fought down his irritation, trying to sound calm: "Alright, I’ll get an expert to check you over tomorrow. I have something urgent now, I’ll call you later."

"Timothy!" Serena suddenly began sobbing, her choked voice coming through the phone, "Please come be with me, alright? I feel so awful, ever since the miscarriage I’ve been so weak... I miss you, Timothy, I really miss you..."

Timothy felt like his heart was tangled in knots.

After all, Serena had lost a child for him, and that night, he’d taken advantage of her while drunk.

In the end, guilt won out.

Reluctantly, he turned his car around: "Stay home, I’ll be there soon."

On the other end, hearing that, Serena smiled in satisfaction and hung up.

But as she looked again and again at Timothy’s statement defending Zoe Ellison on X, her eyes brimmed with resentment.

She muttered, "The more you protect her, the more I’ll make sure she’s ruined!"

Then she opened the X comments, using her alt account to reply to everybody mocking her, line by line.

Since Timothy posted that statement, the wind online had changed.

The people who’d attacked Zoe started rooting for the "reunited couple," and she, the "other woman," became a universal target.

"Serena’s just a homewrecker—look at them, true love, and you’re the clown!"

"A played-out, discarded shoe—now she doesn’t dare show her face. Pathetic!"

"Playing the victim before, now it’s exposed. Karma!"

Staring at these comments, Serena went wild, her fingers flying across the screen, firing back the vilest responses.

She even wanted to register dozens more alt accounts to clap back at everyone cursing her.

She’d once been a beloved idol, center of attention everywhere she went.

Now, hiding at home, she still couldn’t escape mockery and scorn.

If she was suffering, Zoe Ellison shouldn’t get off easy!

Serena’s gaze grew colder and more vicious.

Fortunately, that idiot Jolie Joyce hated Zoe too. She’d heard Jolie, after getting fired by Julian, tried to get a job with Mrs. Hawthorne’s family’s company in Veridia.

So, Serena had privately talked to Mrs. Hawthorne, told her to give Jolie a hard time, let Jolie think Julian was responsible for blacklisting her.

Desperate, Jolie turned reckless, exposing all the rumors about Julian and Zoe online.

And Serena had stayed in the shadows, benefited, and kept her hands clean.

Now her only pastime was arguing viciously with hateful netizens.

Timothy gave her plenty of money, she didn’t need to work—she even had a nanny to wait on her.

She had all the time in the world to feud with those people online, and with Zoe Ellison.

If Zoe dared to ruin her, then she would drag Zoe and Julian into the muck with her.

She wanted every last one of them to join her in hell!

...

Deep into the night, Doris waited at home for ages, but Dad never came.

In the end, Mom made tomato noodles for her and Sharon.

Mom was in a terrible mood.

Doris watched Mom closely and wanted so badly to tell her that, if she still loved Dad, Doris would help get Dad back and kick out the awful woman.

But Mom looked so sad and melancholy, any question Doris wanted to ask died in her throat.

What made her angriest of all was that Dad broke his promise again!

He’d said he’d come see Mom, said he’d bring something delicious.

But she and Sharon had already washed up and gotten in bed, and Dad still hadn’t showed up!

Sharon noticed how grumpy Doris was and asked, "Doris, what’s wrong? Auntie Ellison’s upset, why are you all worked up too?"

Doris was full of worries, but she still didn’t tell Sharon about her secret arrangement with Dad.

Uncle Sinclair was so great—and Sharon seemed to really like him.

Compared to him, her dad looked a bit hopeless. Doris felt telling Sharon would just be embarrassing.

...

The clock crept past midnight, only the dim glow of the wall lamp in the living room.

I slumped on the sofa, clutching my phone, wide awake.

The phone screen kept lighting up, one notification after another.

The Sinclair Group had just released a late-night statement, not only flatly denying all the rumors, but also announcing lawsuits against a couple of leading viral accounts.

Netizens saw The Sinclair Group’s determination and immediately fell silent; the platforms kicked off a second wave of cleanup, and all the snarky posts, even the anonymously nasty ones, vanished in no time.

At that moment, my phone rang—it was Jenna Sutton.

I answered, and before I could say a word, I heard her excited: "Oh my god, Attorney Sinclair’s move is pure boyfriend power! Look at that bastard Timothy, did he ever stick up for you this way? Attorney Sinclair is lightning! That’s hot!"

My hand tightened on the phone. I said, "Jenna, from now on... don’t tie me and Julian together anymore. We’re never going to happen, ever."

On the other end, Jenna went silent immediately.

After a long moment, she hesitated, "What do you mean? Didn’t the mess online just get handled? Are you two fighting?"

I sighed, feeling drained, "You call this settled? From now on, every time I show up somewhere with him, everyone will remember all these awful rumors. He’s so outstanding, nearly flawless—I don’t want to be his only stain."

"How can you talk about yourself like that!"

Jenna’s voice jumped, irritated, "You married an asshole, got hurt by an asshole—none of that is your fault! It’s Timothy and those rumor-mongers who are scumbags!"

"But I knew about his connection to Timothy and still tried to get close—that’s my fault."

Ignoring the ripping pain in my chest, I said, "Jenna, please, don’t bring him up again. Leaving him is the only way to prove he’s clean."

I hung up and closed my eyes, trying to force back my tears.

Just then, the doorbell began to ring, again and again, piercing the silence of the night.

My heart skipped—could it be Julian?

Could he still be here?

I hurried off the sofa, but when I checked the security monitor, I saw Timothy Xavier.

A wave of disappointment and irritation welled up; I ignored him, refusing to open the door.

The doorbell kept ringing, urgent as death.

I still didn’t respond.

Figuring if I held out he’d eventually leave.

But then I heard the property manager outside.

"Ms. Ellison, are you home? Ms. Ellison!" Their knocks and shouts combined.

Then Timothy’s voice: "Thank you guys! I saw what happened online this afternoon, I’m afraid my wife’s alone and might do something crazy..."

"President Xavier, maybe we should call police? Break in and look?" said the manager, sounding anxious.

I couldn’t take it anymore. I yanked open the door, snapping, "Timothy Xavier, have you lost your mind?!"

"Zoe?"

Timothy saw me and his eyes brightened, his anxious face switching to delight: "I thought you..."

Halfway through, he turned to the manager, "Sorry to trouble you, my wife’s fine."

The manager saw I was alright, let out a breath, and told Timothy, "No problem," hurrying away.

I turned to shut the door, but Timothy blocked it with his hand.

"Zoe, don’t be like this." His voice was gentle, but his hand steady—I couldn’t budge the door.

Exhausted, I had no energy to fight, just walked to the living room.

Timothy closed the door and followed, putting his bags on the table.

"These are for you and Doris—your favorites."

He sounded a bit awkward. "But it’s so late now, Doris must be sleeping?"

I ignored him, voice like ice: "Tell me, why did you come here this late? What do you want?"

Timothy hurried over, staring at me intensely.

Suddenly, he grabbed my hand, voice shaking with emotion: "Zoe, Doris told me everything. You still care about me, about our twenty-plus years together as childhood sweethearts—right?"

I froze for a moment before realizing.

Could Doris have overheard what I said to Julian?

Timothy saw my silence and took it as confirmation, holding my hand tighter.

"Zoe, do you know how happy I was when I heard that from Doris? These past weeks have felt like hell; I thought you would never forgive me."

I yanked my hand free, eyes full of sarcasm: "Timothy Xavier, you believe everything a kid says? How naïve are you?"

Timothy paused, then stared at me, puzzled.

After a second, he suddenly realized, "You said those things to drive Julian away. You don’t want to drag him down?"

I looked at him, not speaking.

Timothy drew in a deep breath, his emotion barely contained.

After a long moment, he clenched his fist, jaw tight: "Zoe Ellison, he’s cleared his name—what about you? You barely know him, why sacrifice for him?"

I let out a bitter laugh: "Timothy Xavier, I’ve known you long enough—so what? There are people I’d sacrifice for, even after just a minute, or even a second; willingly, with no regrets. But there are people I gave twenty years, and all I got was losing my mother!"

As I finished, Timothy’s face went pale.

After a long time, his dark gaze locked on me, urgent and angry: "You think breaking up with Julian means people will believe you two are innocent? Zoe, you’re fooling yourself! The entire circle is watching The Sinclair Family, all these companies circling their projects, looking to take advantage!"

My fingertips went cold.

I didn’t know if he was exaggerating, but I knew he wasn’t just "looking out for me."

Sure enough, the next moment he leaned closer, voice coaxing: "If you want to make this act convincing, convince everyone it’s just a misunderstanding with Julian, I can help. Come back to me and I’ll vouch for him—say he was only caring for you out of concern, as an elder for the younger generation."

He chuckled, a mocking sound, dismissive: "Those keyboard warriors are so damn stupid. Their type, the ant-class! We can show them whatever we want—they’ll believe it. I was trashed online, but as long as you set up the right persona, now, people are rooting for us to get back together."

Thinking back to how he replied to netizens, built up this "down-to-earth CEO" image—many people reversed their opinion of him.

Turns out, that was only Xavier Group’s crisis PR giving Timothy a persona to play.

At heart, Timothy was still the same arrogant, self-absorbed bastard. Nothing about him had changed.