Broken Oath: I Left, He Regretted-Chapter 108: I Caught Them in Bed! [Scorching Sight]
I stared at the paternity test report for a long time. When I finally looked up, the conflict in my eyes was gone, and my voice was as calm as if I was talking about someone else’s business: "I don’t want custody anymore."
Hannah Quincy paused, her hand holding the file. She looked up at me, seeming a little surprised.
I met her gaze and continued, "Right now, I just want to get divorced as soon as possible and put an end to the past."
"Alright." Hannah Quincy put away the documents I’d provided and said, "This time, the evidence is solid, there won’t be any mishaps. But... last time you withdrew the lawsuit, so you have to wait six months before you can file again. I still suggest you talk to your husband first, try to get him to sign."
I nodded and said, "It doesn’t matter. Whether he signs or not, it won’t affect my decision to get divorced."
Besides, I’d already moved out, didn’t want his money, and didn’t want custody of the child.
What does a divorce certificate even mean, anyway?
Leaving the law office, I walked along the sidewalk, suddenly feeling incredibly light and relieved.
Turns out, letting go of Doris isn’t compromise—it’s letting myself off the hook.
...
Back at the office, I’d just sat down when Victoria Monroe scooted her chair over next to me.
She lowered her voice, looking puzzled: "Zoe, did you see? President Sinclair is at our company again!"
I followed her gaze toward the direction of the CEO’s office and asked, "So what?"
Victoria Monroe analyzed, "Our little company just got acquired. What we make in a year isn’t even a drop in the bucket for Sinclair Group HQ. He’s here every other day—total waste of his time, isn’t it?"
Something felt messy inside, but I couldn’t quite believe it.
I picked up my water cup and took a sip, acting nonchalant: "Who knows. How can we guess what the boss is thinking?"
Victoria nodded, then frowned again: "Right. We’re supposed to have a small gathering this week. Our editor-in-chief is leaving—we’re throwing a farewell party. Honestly, I didn’t want to invite President Sinclair, but he’s always around. Ignoring him would be rude, you know?"
I didn’t dare respond.
Julian Sinclair is even harder to read than Timothy Xavier; no way I’m offering advice and getting myself in trouble.
Victoria Monroe agonized over it all day, then right before clock-out she stood up, gritting her teeth: "Forget it, I’ll go tell him! Even if he doesn’t come, at least we were polite. Can’t let people say we have no manners."
With that, she was already walking toward the CEO’s office.
But within a few minutes, she came back cursing, slamming into her chair: "I’m so pissed! That Secretary Joyce by President Sinclair’s side—she’s even more arrogant than him! I didn’t even get through the office door before she blocked me. As soon as she heard I was inviting President Sinclair to our dinner, she got all snarky, acting like I had ulterior motives. She’s filthy-minded, thinks everyone’s as dirty as she is!"
I handed her a cup of water and tried to calm her down, but it didn’t really help.
As we were getting off work, we waited together at the elevators.
Since our company doesn’t have a private elevator for the CEO, even Julian Sinclair has to share with the employees.
Except normally, when he shows up, everyone instinctively avoids riding in the same elevator as him.
We’d just taken our spots when Julian Sinclair and Jolie Joyce came over.
Jolie stepped forward discreetly, nudging Victoria and me aside to make room for Julian to get in first.
Victoria and I glanced at each other, ready to take the stairs, when the elevator doors opened.
Julian glanced at us and said coolly, "Come in."
Victoria, surprised by the attention, thanked him, and the two of us walked into the elevator.
Jolie shot us a contemptuous look. That expression reminded me of when she worked as Timothy Xavier’s secretary, always bullying people and making my life miserable.
Fire started brewing inside me—I refused to let her feel superior this time.
I took a deep breath and turned to Julian Sinclair: "President Sinclair, our department is throwing a farewell party for the editor-in-chief this week. If you’re free, we’d love for you to join us."
Something flashed in Julian’s deep eyes, surprised by my initiative.
Jolie’s eyes went wide in shock and disdain, as if thinking, "Who are you to invite President Sinclair?"
Before Julian could reply, she jumped in: "Zoe Ellison, President Sinclair is incredibly busy. How could he attend an event like yours?"
I smiled at her—not a hint of anger in my voice, but I hit her right where it hurt: "Secretary Joyce, I’m inviting President Sinclair. Are you making decisions on his behalf?"
Jolie’s face flushed red, looking to Julian for help, waiting for her boss to back her up.
But Julian didn’t seem the least bit annoyed. He said simply, "If I’m free, I’ll drop by."
As soon as he said that, the elevator doors opened.
He walked out directly, Jolie shot me a vicious glare, and hurried after him.
Victoria Monroe stared at me in shock, unable to believe what had happened.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
Her gaze made me uneasy all over.
Victoria’s eyes were full of admiration: "How did I never see you were so gutsy before? Did you see Jolie’s face just now? Looked like she’d just swallowed shit."
I felt a little embarrassed from the praise.
Victoria went on, "Seriously, I thought President Sinclair would blow you off. But he actually responded! He always seems so cold, I don’t even dare talk to him."
Some strange emotion rose inside me, but I forced myself not to overthink it, pushing those weird thoughts down as hard as I could.
That evening after getting home, I updated my novel as usual.
Serena Sawyer posted a kickoff photo on X, her fans retweeted like crazy, and the marketing accounts started hyping all sorts of news about "Marriage Heart"—the internet was buzzing.
Our production group chat was lively too:
[Lead actress Raina Ainsworth: The noise is insane! Every time she makes a move, I’m guaranteed to get hate. Her fans are terrifying!]
[Producer Vera Quincy: They always go for noise over substance. In the end, only real skill counts!]
[Director Simon Hollis: Too bad the old pros I invited won’t be available till next week. Once they’re here, we’ll hold our kickoff ceremony—I guarantee our lineup will be much stronger than theirs!]
After what happened to Serena Sawyer—official censure, boycotted by countless brands—anyone with backstage info in showbiz keeps their distance.
Timothy Xavier threw two hundred million at the project for her, but for all that cash, all they could hire were newcomers.
No one wants to get caught up in Serena’s mess and risk getting blacklisted along with her.
Then Vera posted a sarcastic emoji, with: [I’ll say something harsh. With Serena’s current reputation, they might not even get this show past the TV bureau!]
The chat exploded with discussion.
Raina Ainsworth tagged me: [Lucky we had our beautiful reporter risking it all during the earthquake—outshined Serena once again, so her attempt to flip her public image totally backfired! Otherwise, she might’ve actually pulled it off!]
I replied with an embarrassed emoji.
Everyone in the group knows I’m Zoe Ellison, but I still don’t want that fact broadcast to the world. Thank god people keep quiet.
Only this way can I keep working.
The last thing I want is to be a public figure constantly under surveillance.
I rarely speak in the group, but sometimes I watch their late-night chat until they finally log off.
The next morning, I was woken by my phone ringing.
Seeing "Doris" on the screen made me frown.
But no matter what, a mother’s instinct for her child is always there—I still answered.
"Can... Can you take me to kindergarten?"
Her voice was timid and hesitant. Now she doesn’t even call me "Auntie."
But she hates me so much—why does she want me to take her?
I didn’t agree right away, instead asking, "Where are you?"
"At Grandma’s. Grandma said she’s not feeling well this morning, won’t get up..."
Doris’s voice got quieter: "If you don’t come, I’ll just go by myself."
Thinking of her last solo outing—the car accident—my heart clenched. I said, "Stay home, I’m coming right over."
When I got to Sophia Kendall’s, Doris wasn’t in sight.
Sophia sat in the living room in her pajamas, glanced up at me, and pointed to the second floor: "Doris is in her bedroom getting dressed. She’s so slow—still not ready. I don’t have the energy anymore. If you want, go take a look yourself!"
I was rushing to work, so I went upstairs, hoping to get Doris dressed and off to kindergarten quickly.
The maid led me to the second floor.
"Miss Doris is inside."
She left as soon as she finished speaking.
I pushed open the door—and froze in shock the next second.
Timothy Xavier and Serena Sawyer were lying naked on the bed, the blanket barely covering their waists.
Serena was already awake, tracing Timothy’s face with her fingers, her eyes shooting me a provocative side-glance.
After a split-second of shock and chaos, I forced myself to stay calm and pulled out my phone, turning the camera on the bed.
Serena never expected me to photograph them instead of making a scene—totally thrown by how calmly I handled it.
She understood my intention instantly, panicked, and lunged to snatch my phone.
"Somebody! Hurry, somebody!"
Serena screamed out to the hallway.
Sophia rushed in with several maids.
Serena immediately said, "Mom, she took pictures of me and Timothy! She’s going to expose us!"
Sophia was shocked. She ordered the maids, "Why aren’t you grabbing her phone for me!?"
The maids, together with Serena, charged at me.
In the end, Serena snatched my phone away.
She curled her lips into a mocking smile, muttering, "No wonder you were an entertainment reporter. Paparazzi like you just love taking sneaky photos! Go ahead—take all you want!"
As she spoke, she deleted every photo I’d taken—cleaned out completely.
All the commotion finally woke Timothy Xavier.
My chest heaved with rage. I stared at the man rubbing his temples with a frown—my fingers trembling.
Just then, Timothy seemed to realize something.
He jerked upright and stared at me in disbelief, pupils contracting, completely stunned.
Serena suddenly burst into tears, putting on a pitiful act: "Miss Ellison, if you want to blame someone, blame me! It’s not Timothy’s fault. It’s all my fault, I..."
I shot Timothy a sarcastic look, turned and headed downstairs.
But Sophia followed close behind, her sneering voice at my back: "Zoe Ellison, now you should finally give up, right? Even if you refuse divorce, it won’t stop Timothy and Serena!"
I stopped and looked back at her, disgusted to my core.
I sneered, staring at her sharp face: "You used my daughter to trick me here, just so I’d see this filthy scene. Incredible effort, really. But in this marriage, the one shamelessly refusing divorce, clinging on for dear life—is your son, not me!"
"You!"
Sophia’s face flushed with fury. She pointed at my nose, cursing, "You want to be a whore and act like a saint! What gives you the right to act superior in front of me!"
I had no energy left to argue with her, so I walked out and got in my car.
Just as I started the engine, I saw Timothy chasing out.
My car was already moving forward.
He rushed to my window, pounding on the glass, yelling god knows what.
I looked at his anxious face through the window—feeling nothing but irony.
Next second, I hit the gas. The car shot forward, leaving him far behind.
All the way, my hands shook on the steering wheel.
Even though I’d long since given up hope for Timothy Xavier, seeing him and Serena’s filth with my own eyes made me sick to my stomach.
...
Half an hour later, I finally made it to the company parking garage.
As soon as I got out of the car, Timothy’s car screeched to a stop right in front of me.
Who knew when he’d caught up.
This Timothy was nothing like his usual polished self—crumpled shirt, messy hair, eyes bloodshot.
He grabbed my wrist as soon as he got close: "Zoe, listen, it’s not what you think, I..."
I jerked my hand away, my fingers ice cold, staring at the shirt he’d buttoned wrong—my voice frighteningly calm and cold: "Did you even bother to clean yourself up?"
Timothy choked up, face turning from anxious to pale and embarrassed.
His lips moved, but he couldn’t say a word.
I laughed. "President Xavier, after screwing her, you can’t even bother to wash up before heading out? Not afraid of being dirty?"
I turned to head to the elevator, but he yanked my wrist back, gripping tight. "Zoe, you have to hear me out!"
I was about to lose it when I spotted a Bentley rolling slowly into the garage.
After parking, Julian Sinclair stepped out—black suit accentuating his tall frame, a stark contrast to Timothy’s disheveled mess.
My heart skipped for no reason.
Julian’s gaze landed on Timothy’s hand wrapped around my wrist, instantly turning cold.
He ignored Timothy, stared at me with a calm but oppressive tone: "You’re late again."
My heart tightened. I struggled to break free from Timothy’s grip, but he just squeezed harder.
I steeled myself against Julian’s gaze, lowering my voice: "Sorry, President Sinclair. This is the last time."
Timothy suddenly cut in, glaring at Julian provocatively: "From now on, Zoe Ellison has resigned! No need to act like the boss for her. She loves being a news reporter. I’ll open her own media company tomorrow—hell, a dozen companies if she wants!"
Julian smiled slightly at that—but the smile didn’t reach his eyes.
He looked at Timothy, voice edged with mockery: "President Xavier, it’s not like you didn’t know your wife always wanted to be a journalist, right? Funny, you’ve been married four years, and I still haven’t seen this media company you promised her. Or is it that all your money’s been invested in Miss Sawyer’s new show?"
