Broken Oath: I Left, He Regretted-Chapter 88: Naomi Sawyer Isn’t Dead?

The next day, I learned that Serena had signed a contract with the crew.

The contract clearly stipulated that if an actor left the crew, they must apply for leave; otherwise, the contract would be terminated.

This meant that Serena could no longer arbitrarily go home to see my Doris.

Only then did I feel relieved.

Thinking about how Doris recently went through food poisoning and was used by Serena, landing in the hospital twice, made my heart ache.

I was considering how to see Doris and quickly use a paternity test to prove my mother-daughter relationship with her.

Just then, my phone rang. It was Jenna Sutton.

"Zoe, something’s happened."

Jenna’s voice was heavy as she said, "Timothy Xavier seems to have gone mad! Do you know? He hired several private tutors at ten times the market rate to give Doris private lessons at The Xavier Manor. Doris probably won’t be going to kindergarten anymore."

I took a deep breath, suppressing my shock and anger, and said, "The more he acts like this, the more it shows he’s guilty. He’s afraid I’ll get in touch with Doris at the kindergarten, afraid I’ll get the paternity test."

Jenna, who works in early childhood education, worriedly said, "Timothy’s actions seem generous towards his daughter, but it’s really detrimental to her growth. Kids this age are just starting socialization training, and he’s keeping her isolated at home. If this continues, Doris will only become more reclusive and unsociable once she enters school."

I asked, "Do you know where he got the private tutors from?"

Jenna sighed and said, "The list is top secret. They signed strict confidentiality agreements with Timothy. I only heard about him hiring private tutors from an insider acquaintance. Timothy has been visiting many educational institutions these past few days to select teachers."

I softly acknowledged, feeling powerless, and said, "Timothy is still as tight-lipped as ever. Although I’ve managed to send Serena away and he’s temporarily given up the idea of sending Doris abroad, he still doesn’t want me to get near Doris."

Jenna, with a comforting tone, said, "The most important thing now is for you to hold steady. The tighter Timothy pulls the reins, the more it shows he’s afraid you’ll discover Doris’s true identity. We’ll take it step by step, first getting to know those teachers better. We’ll find a breakthrough."

I looked out at the bare branches of deep winter, feeling like my heart was submerged in ice.

Yes, there’s no point in rushing. The plan that Timothy has laid out for so long can’t be easily broken.

After the call with Jenna, although I was supposed to stay home and update my manuscript, I was inexplicably irritable and restless.

Having pulled several all-nighters to finally lead Serena into the trap, I still haven’t been able to see my daughter.

My gaze inadvertently fell on the calendar. In three days, it will be December 8th.

That day is my daughter’s birthday, and also her ’death anniversary.’

This ’death anniversary’ was imposed on her by Timothy, and on me.

Even so, I still went to the cemetery.

Even though I almost believe in my heart that Doris is my daughter, that ’child’ buried deep down seems like my marriage with Timothy, forever entombed in endless darkness.

...

Cemetery.

When I arrived, there was already a figure standing in front of the child’s tombstone.

Timothy Xavier stood with his back to me before the tombstone, seemingly aware of my presence yet did not turn around for a long time.

Only when I stood three steps behind him did he slowly turn around.

The man’s eyes and brows were covered with a layer of impenetrable frost as he gazed at me.

I stared at him, and inexplicably the anger in my heart flared up: "What are you doing here?"

His voice was as calm as a still pond, "The child’s anniversary is coming up. Like you, I came to visit."

I sneered, saying, "Timothy Xavier, you know very well whether the child buried here is ours!"

"She is."

He interrupted me, his gaze suddenly growing sharp, "Why do you always deceive yourself? Doris is not your daughter; how many times do I have to tell you?"

"Then what do you mean by locking her up at home?"

I stepped forward, my voice trembling, "If there’s nothing suspicious, why are you afraid to let me see her? Why not openly let us do a paternity test?"

He nonchalantly averted his eyes, his tone without a ripple, "Don’t think too highly of yourself. A lot has happened recently; I think it’s too chaotic outside and want Doris to rest at home for a while. It has nothing to do with you."

"Nothing to do with me?" I almost laughed out of anger at his cold demeanor, "Timothy Xavier, are you even a man? I used to think you were cold, but at least upright. But now, you do things and don’t own up to them. You’re really disappointing!"

His gaze deepened as he asked, "If you’re sure the child didn’t die, what’s the point of you coming here today?"

I gazed at the cold tombstone and suddenly felt an absurd desolation.

"To mourn everything that has died between us."

I spoke lowly: "Do you know? On that burial day, I stood here alone, watching that small urn being buried in the soil. I so wished you could come and take a glance, even if just a glance, to show that you still cared. But you didn’t! You had plenty of time to stay overseas with Serena to treat a dog, yet you didn’t even take my call."

Timothy’s gaze suddenly darkened, falling on the newly placed white chrysanthemums in front of the tombstone, his eyelashes casting a deep shadow beneath his eyes.

For the first time, I saw a trace of bitterness and indefensible distress on his cold and noble face.

He finally spoke, his voice heavy: "That day, I really had something to do; it wasn’t to accompany Serena. It was Naomi... she suddenly had an episode, and I had to stay there..."

There was no ripple or softening on my face, I just said blandly: "Timothy Xavier, you still don’t understand. Whether it was being with Serena or being with Naomi, it no longer matters to me. In any case, the person in your heart has never been me."

The grievances of the past surged like a tide; I sniffed, looking up at him: "You promised me many things, but you did none of them. However, regarding the divorce, I hope you can keep your word. Let’s give each other a decent release, shall we?"

His jawline was taut, a faint flicker passed in his eyes, so fast it was ungraspable.

We both fell silent, with only the sound of the wind in our ears.

After an unknown period of time, he finally spoke: "We can divorce, as long as you promise never to disturb Doris’s life again."

After speaking, he didn’t wait for my response and turned to leave.

The sound of his black leather shoes crushing the dry yellow leaves was particularly piercing in the silent cemetery, like a dull knife cutting repeatedly into my heart.

I won’t disturb him, nor will I disturb his daughter, but I must reclaim my daughter!

She is the child I carried for ten months!

How can I just give up?

...

After returning from the cemetery, I locked myself in my room, staring at the "12.8" circled in red on the calendar, my fingers tracing those numbers over and over.

Four years have passed, and I haven’t been involved in any stage of Doris’s growth, not even celebrating a single birthday with her.

Suddenly, I remembered when she asked me to make a Lap Boo cake at the hospital last time.

It seemed that the little girl liked this doll very much.

I searched the internet for information about this doll and found that several versions were already discontinued.

Finally, I found those discontinued versions on the resale market. They were very expensive, but I gritted my teeth and bought them.

I wanted to give them to Doris on her birthday.

The day before her birthday, I called Timothy Xavier and said: "I want to go celebrate Doris’s birthday tomorrow. Is she at home?"

There was a two-second silence before his cold voice came through: "Zoe Ellison, Doris’s birthday is not tomorrow."

"You know better than anyone what her real birthday is."

I tightly clutched my phone, pressing so hard it hurt, "Timothy Xavier, I simply want to celebrate her birthday once, I won’t do anything to unsettle you. You’ve deprived me of my maternal rights for four whole years. I just want to celebrate my daughter’s fourth birthday with her. If you have any conscience left, you shouldn’t refuse this one wish!"

The breathing on the other end seemed to pause for a moment. After a long time, he finally said: "You may come. But I warn you, don’t entertain any thoughts regarding Doris, or you’ll never see her again."

...

The next morning, I brought the gifts for Doris and arrived at The Xavier Manor.

This place, which I once thought would be my lifelong home, now felt so unfamiliar.

Nanny Lowell saw me and said joyfully: "Madam, you’re here! Come in quickly, sir is waiting with the young miss."

I smiled at her and said: "Don’t call me ’madam’ anymore."

Nanny Lowell looked slightly embarrassed but quickly understood and corrected herself: "Miss Ellison..."

She led me into the living room. Timothy Xavier was sitting on the sofa reading a magazine, while Doris was on the carpet playing with her dolls.

When I came in, Doris paused and said: "Auntie Ellison, why are you here?"

The word ’auntie’ stabbed at my heart.

Then, I put on a bright smile, squatted down, and gently patted her head. "Auntie is here to celebrate your birthday, Doris."

She tilted her head, frowning slightly: "But my birthday hasn’t arrived yet."

I smiled and pinched her cheek: "Then let’s celebrate in advance so Doris can have two birthdays. Isn’t that a great deal?"

"Wow! Really!"

Doris immediately clapped her little hands and jumped up, her eyes sparkling. "Auntie, can you make the cake with me today?"

"Of course."

I couldn’t help but want to hug her, but the little girl subtly pulled away.

Maybe, in her eyes, I’m still just a stranger who makes delicious food?

Timothy, standing nearby, remained silent, occasionally looking at us with a cool, deep gaze.

That’s good too. If he can be like air, letting me spend the day with Doris, I’d be very satisfied.

However, as I took Doris into the kitchen, he followed us in.

He leaned against the kitchen doorway, watching me like a thief.

I understood that he was afraid I might collect samples from Doris for a test during this time.

I suppressed my displeasure, put on an apron, and started preparing the ingredients.

Doris stood on tiptoe, leaning over the counter, her nose almost touching the edge of the ceramic bowl. "Auntie, can I help you crack the eggs?"

She looked at me with bright, black eyes, like a kitten waiting to be fed.

I placed an egg in her palm, took one myself, and showed her how to crack an egg like I did.

The little girl learned quickly, and after two eggs, she seemed quite adept at it.

At this moment, Timothy took out his phone and pointed it at us.

I frowned and asked, "What are you doing?"

He said lightly, "Recording Doris’s growth to show her when she grows up."

That loving gaze was something not usually seen in Timothy’s eyes.

Only when facing Doris did he show any air of warmth and humanity.

I mocked myself internally. He cherished his daughter so much.

But what about me?

I had to endure the pain of being separated from my daughter.

Just then, Doris suddenly said regretfully, "I wish mom was here too. I haven’t seen her for days, and I miss her so much."

My hands kneading the dough suddenly froze, and my heart felt like it had been pierced by an ice pick.

Timothy gently said to his daughter, "Mom is filming. She will definitely come back to be with you on your birthday."

"That’s great!"

Doris smiled happily, revealing her little tiger teeth, and proudly said, "My mom’s a big star. She always says that being the daughter of a star comes with sacrifices. Because stars are busy, but they’re also dazzling! Dad, I want to be a big star too!"

I silently sighed. No matter how hard I tried, I could not replace Serena’s position in Doris’s heart now.

Doris talked a lot with Timothy, occasionally speaking to me, but only regarding the steps of making the cake, nothing more.

When she again went on and on about Serena, her ’mom’, I couldn’t help but interrupt.

"Doris, Auntie brought you a gift too."

I tried to change the topic, eager to integrate into their conversation.

Hearing about a gift, Doris asked excitedly, "What gift?"

I tapped her little nose and said, "It’s a limited edition Rilakkuma."

"Really?"

It was as if countless stars lit up in her eyes. She looked so much like Timothy, but also like me.

Upon hearing about the limited edition Rilakkuma, Doris couldn’t wait any longer.

She grabbed my hand and eagerly asked, "Auntie, where’s the gift?"

I smiled, "It’s in my bag. Shall I take you to get it?"

As I was about to hold Doris’s hand and head out, Timothy said, "Doris, go get it yourself. Auntie’s bag is on the living room sofa."

Doris, anxious to get the gift, had already dashed off.

I looked at Timothy, gave a mocking smile, and said, "Are you so afraid of me being alone with Doris? Even just for a moment?"

Timothy said coldly, "Doris’s life now is very happy and peaceful. You just heard how much she relies on Serena. I just don’t want you to disrupt that, it’s that simple."

As we were talking, Doris had already returned to the kitchen with a gift-wrapped box tied with a ribbon.

She had just placed the box on the table when she pulled something shiny from her pocket and held it up to me, "Auntie, is this for me too? It’s so sparkly and beautiful!"

Following her hand, my blood instantly froze.

Naomi’s ear stud, set with a pink diamond, which I had put in my bag that day.

These past days, frustrated by various matters, I had forgotten to take it out and put it away properly.

Beside us, Timothy seemed as if he had been struck by lightning, standing frozen, staring deadly at that ear stud, the sharpness in his eyes seemed as if it could tear someone apart!

The air in the kitchen felt frozen, and I could almost hear my heart pounding against my chest.

Doris, still unaware, waved the ear stud around and said, "Auntie, why aren’t you saying anything?"

In the next moment, Timothy took the ear stud from her hand and said coldly, "Doris, go back to your room."

"Why?"

Doris looked at her dad in confusion, "We just started making the cake, and it’s not even..."

Before she finished speaking, Timothy repeated sternly, "Go to your room immediately!"

Doris was startled.

Although Timothy usually doted on her, the authoritarian presence of a father always commanded both respect and fear from a child.

Now, with Timothy in such a fierce manner, Doris was almost about to cry, her little eyes turning red.

I couldn’t stand it anymore and said, "Timothy, is it necessary to treat your daughter like this for someone who’s already gone? She’s so young, what could she understand?"

Timothy just looked at Doris and said, "I don’t want to say it a third time."

Tears instantly streamed down Doris’s face; she was extremely aggrieved but dared not defy her father, crying as she ran upstairs.

Only when the little girl’s figure disappeared around the staircase corner did Timothy finally speak, with suppressed anger: "How did Naomi’s thing end up with you? Zoe Ellison, do you still dare claim that her death has nothing to do with you!"

He forced me backward with each step until my back was against the cold cabinet.

He gripped my shoulders tightly, his teeth clenched, and asked, "Tell me! Why is something so personal of Naomi’s with you?"

I met his gaze straightforwardly and said, "I picked up that ear stud."

He sneered and said, "Zoe Ellison, if you’re going to lie, at least make an effort!"

"It’s true!"

I raised my voice, with a hint of tremor, "That day outside my mom’s hospital room, there was a woman wandering suspiciously, I sensed something was wrong and chased after her. She dropped it while running. I couldn’t catch her, but I picked this ear stud up, thinking it might be useful one day."

Timothy leaned close, his tall figure almost making me breathless, "Don’t tell me that woman was Naomi! Zoe Ellison, do you know what you’re saying?"

I said, "If you don’t believe me, let’s go check the hospital’s surveillance now!"

Timothy stared at me for a full half-minute, as if trying to see through me.

Suddenly, he grabbed my wrist and turned to leave, "To the hospital."

...

The car sped down the road, the silence in the cabin more suffocating than a quarrel.

I watched the retreating cityscape outside the window, my heart in my throat.

The last time surveillance checking didn’t work, this time, Timothy probably would use his connections, surely he could get it up.

I also wanted to know, who on earth was that woman? And why was she at my mom’s hospital room door?