Broken Oath: I Left, He Regretted-Chapter 94: Hints of My True Origins Emerge

Seeing my nearly petrified expression, the editor-in-chief paused and asked, "Reporter Ellison, is there a problem?"

"Uh..."

I awkwardly began, "I’ve heard that Attorney Sinclair rarely accepts interviews."

The editor-in-chief nodded and said, "Precisely because of that, I want you to give it a try. Previously, Monroe went once and was turned away. I think, since you’ve managed to write so many hit stories, you must have what it takes."

I was pondering how to tactfully refuse.

Even if it means taking on another task!

But the editor-in-chief continued, "Don’t put too much pressure on yourself. It’d be great if you can interview Attorney Sinclair; if not, that’s fine too. After all, no other magazine has succeeded either."

She had already put it that way; if I continued to refuse, it would seem ungrateful and immature.

"Alright then."

I reluctantly agreed.

After leaving the editor-in-chief’s office, Victoria Monroe said to me, "Julian Sinclair is a tough nut to crack. If you really can’t get anything out of him, don’t force it. The editor-in-chief is just treating this as a long shot and doesn’t expect you to succeed."

"I know."

I nodded. Even so, I still had to meet Julian Sinclair.

But thinking about the time when Mrs. Ellison caused a scene at Apex Law Firm, I wished I could find a hole to hide in.

After leaving the editor-in-chief’s office, I gathered my thoughts and called Julian Sinclair.

The phone rang for a long time until a mechanical female voice informed me that the call was unanswered.

I froze for a moment, was it deliberate?

After all, after I led Mrs. Ellison out of Apex Law Firm that day, Julian Sinclair called me, but I didn’t pick up.

So, is he retaliating?

This thought was quickly extinguished.

Given Julian Sinclair’s age and status, he likely wouldn’t bother with petty grudges, right? Besides, that day, I just didn’t want to cause him trouble.

But when the second and third call again went unanswered, I faintly sensed I might have indeed offended him.

...

The next day, armed with my interview outline, I headed straight to Apex Law Firm.

Just as Leo Grant was exiting the elevator with a folder, he saw me and paused, then asked with slight amusement, "Miss Ellison, are you here to see Attorney Sinclair?"

Thinking about the time at Julian Sinclair’s house, wearing his shirt, and him having Leo Grant bring me clothes, I felt a bit uncomfortable, awkwardly asking, "Is he here?"

Leo Grant honestly replied, "Attorney Sinclair went golfing with a friend this afternoon; he’s not at the firm."

I thanked him and drove to Veridia’s most expensive golf course.

The winter afternoon sun was pleasantly warm.

I saw, from afar, a tall figure on the green. Julian Sinclair, dressed in an all-white sportswear, held his golf club with grace and concentration, exuding a noble aloofness even from the side.

The next moment, a small white ball brushed past the grass leaves, rolling steadily into the cup.

I hurried over, cheekily complimenting, "Uncle, you’re impressive!"

Julian Sinclair paused slightly, turning to look at me.

The sunlight cast on his sharply defined face, his gaze behind the glasses sweeping over faintly, without surprise.

It must be that Leo Grant had already informed him of my visit.

I took out my press card, cautiously asking, "Uncle, are you free now?"

Julian Sinclair frowned slightly and lowered his voice, "Do you think by acting humble, you can get chummy with me?"

My heart tightened, he saw right through me!

I indeed was hoping to leverage the "family" connection to coax him into granting me an interview.

Under Julian Sinclair’s cold gaze, I felt desperately awkward.

He withdrew his gaze, bent over to place the ball on the tee, his voice unchanging, "What do you want with me?"

I quickly pulled out my press card, "I was wondering if it’s convenient for you, I’d like to do an exclusive interview."

"No time." He cut me off, his tone flat but undeniably cold.

Having said that, he handed the club to the caddy and turned to walk toward the rest area, his pace casual and relaxed.

I was stunned, does he really have no time?

Isn’t he here playing golf for leisure?

Just then, a voice came from afar, drawing closer, "I was just gone to the restroom, and you stopped playing?"

I looked towards the voice and saw a figure in dark gray sportswear, similarly tall and with a carefree nobility, around the same age as Julian Sinclair.

Julian Sinclair turned slightly to glance at him, introducing in a flat tone, "This is Mason Hawthorne from the Hawthorne Family in Silverstream, also a friend of mine."

Then he introduced me to Mason Hawthorne, "Zoe Ellison, a reporter from Depth Weekly."

Mason Hawthorne’s gaze swept over me and his smile deepened.

As he looked back at Julian Sinclair, he teased, "I wondered what could make you stop your game, turns out there’s a guest. But come to think of it, you’ve always been dismissive of journalists coming by, yet today you’ve made an exception for Miss Ellison?"

I was about to explain that I had come on my own volition when Julian Sinclair spoke, his tone unperturbed, "Whether she can score an interview or not, depends on her own effort; I haven’t agreed."

My spirits lifted at his words.

Indeed, Julian Sinclair looked at me and leisurely said, "Since Mason is here, why not play a few holes together. If Miss Ellison can beat me, we can revisit the interview matter."

I was taken aback, then secretly sighed with relief.

Golf happens to be my strength, my brother introduced me to it.

In college, I even won the district’s Golf Association competition championship.

But then again, if I beat him in front of his friend, it might not reflect well and could backfire.

When teeing off, I deliberately held back my strength, controlling the distance with each stroke, eventually losing to Julian Sinclair by one stroke.

As he retrieved his club, he glanced at me, that look seeming to carry some understanding, yet his lips didn’t curve into a smile.

Mason Hawthorne watched clearly from the side, grinning as he patted Julian Sinclair’s shoulder, hinting, "This Miss Ellison is quite clever."

I didn’t dare to respond, just kept my head down pretending to arrange my clubs.

Julian Sinclair spoke plainly, "Miss Ellison, you’ve lost."

A slight disappointment flitted through my heart, but I soon came to terms with it.

The editor-in-chief didn’t give me a strict order; it wouldn’t matter if I didn’t succeed.

Just as I was about to take my leave, Julian Sinclair suddenly added, "Let’s play another round later; Miss Ellison, make sure to seize the opportunity this time."

I looked up at him, then glanced at the smiling but silent Mason Hawthorne beside him, nodding, "Okay."

Then I followed them to the rest area, my mind buzzing with anticipation.

In the second round, should I give my all or continue to hold back?

Under the shade of the resting area, the breeze carried the scent of grass.

I sat quietly to the side, trying to minimize my presence, listening to Julian Sinclair and Mason Hawthorne chatting idly.

Julian Sinclair sipped his tea, seemingly casually asking Mason Hawthorne, "How’s the search going?"

Mason Hawthorne leaned back on the wicker chair, sighed at the words, "Maybe she’s not in Veridia anymore. My dad met her in this city all those years ago, but after so many years, there’s no trace of her at her old workplace. It’s like looking for a needle in a haystack."

"Perhaps she’s been gone for a long time, just your father’s obsession," Julian Sinclair said indifferently, "By the way, you mentioned before that the woman was pregnant with your father’s child?"

"Who knows if she ever had the child? When they broke up, my dad saw her pregnancy test result and insisted that he had a child out there somewhere."

As he spoke, he waved his hand irritably, "Let’s not talk about it. We just need to keep searching! I really don’t want to keep running to this unfamiliar city every few days."

I listened to their stories of old friends, not really understanding, and remained silent.

Suddenly, Mason Hawthorne chuckled and said to Julian Sinclair, "By the way, I’ve got to ask you something. The diamond ring you ordered from me, is it the only one you want?"

Julian Sinclair looked up, "Is there a problem?"

"Timothy Xavier from Veridia’s Xavier Group contacted me this morning," Mason Hawthorne said, "I’m quite surprised since we don’t usually interact. He heard that I have a top-quality South African diamond ring and offered a high price to buy it, saying it’s for his wife."

The mention of "Timothy Xavier" startled me, causing my water cup to wobble, almost spilling.

Julian Sinclair’s side glance skimmed over me, and I felt uncomfortable all over.

He knew all about the messy entanglement between Timothy Xavier and me.

Though I didn’t need to explain anything to him, his gaze made me feel my cheeks burning and my heart unsettled, like I wanted to crawl into a hole from embarrassment.

Mason Hawthorne seemed to recall an amusing anecdote and laughed to himself, "I think I’ve heard some rumors about Timothy Xavier. Wasn’t he close with a starlet before? Turns out, he already had a wife all along. But seeing his stance today, he seems to genuinely care for his wife, offering twenty times my cost for the ring, showing a lot of sincerity."

Upon hearing this, Julian Sinclair’s mouth curled into a faint, mocking smile, tinged with disdain, "Why? Mason Hawthorne can’t pay a few million for a birthday party for his wife but needs Timothy Xavier’s money?"

"Hey, that’s not the way to put it." Mason Hawthorne raised his eyebrows, smiling shrewdly, "You and I are businessmen; we can’t afford to avoid making money. So, are you willing to part with it? We could split the extra profit half and half."

I sat beside them, absently twisting my fingers, feeling as if a bundle of cotton was clogging my heart.

Timothy Xavier appeared generous, but it truly made me feel unimpressed.

What made me even more uncomfortable was Julian Sinclair’s gaze occasionally landing on me, carrying a subtle hint of mockery.

It was as if the messy business between Timothy Xavier and me was just a ridiculous farce in his eyes.

Just when I was on the edge of my seat, looking for an excuse to leave, Julian Sinclair finally spoke, "After all, that ring was initially meant for a client, and since Timothy Xavier is willing to overpay, why not let him have it?"

The two exchanged a smile, sealing the deal.

Just then, Mason Hawthorne received a phone call and stepped aside to answer it.

The resting area was left with just me and Julian Sinclair.

The air grew thick and tense; I sat rigidly, wanting nothing more than to get up and leave immediately.

Julian Sinclair suddenly started speaking, his tone light and teasing, "Mrs. Xavier, we’re ripping off your husband like this; aren’t you angry?"

My cheeks flushed instantly. Trying to maintain composure, I replied, "This is between Attorney Sinclair and Timothy Xavier, nothing to do with me. I have no reason to be angry."

He leaned slightly, his gaze fixed on my face, the tone indescribable: "You two are a loving couple; if I don’t ask you, who should I ask?"

Before I could respond, Julian Sinclair stood up, nodding towards the course, "One more round?"

I braced myself and agreed.

This time, I didn’t want to go easy on him!

I had to win back the score for myself; otherwise, I’d lose every bit of dignity because of Timothy Xavier!

But it was only then that I realized, last round, Julian Sinclair had actually gone easy on me.

This time, Julian moved seriously; each shot was precise, like measured. The white ball steadily fell into the cup with every stroke, giving me hardly any room to breathe.

I gave it my all, yet lost terribly, so embarrassed I could barely hold the club.

Mason returned just in time to see the ending of the last shot, teasing, "Julian, this isn’t fair, why compete with a young girl?"

Julian Sinclair said nothing in reply, just turned to look at me, his tone returning to the earlier coldness, "Miss Ellison, a bet’s a bet. I’m sorry, but I can’t accept your exclusive interview."

The sunlight filtered through the canopy’s gaps onto his face. It should have been warm, yet it sent a chill rising from the depths of my heart.

"It’s alright."

I smiled, maintaining decorum, "I won’t disturb your gathering with friends any longer, I’ll take my leave."

...

Leaving the golf course, I called Victoria Monroe, sounding downcast, "It didn’t work out; Julian Sinclair is not budging at all."

On the other end, she laughed knowingly, "I told you, that big Buddha isn’t so easily invited? It’s fine, no one’s ever succeeded anyway, the editor-in-chief won’t blame you."

Her comforting words lightened the defeat in my heart somewhat, but recalling Julian’s sarcastic words from before left a heaviness on my chest.

When I returned to The Xavier Manor, Timothy Xavier was already there.

He sat on the living room sofa, holding an exquisite velvet box. Upon seeing me, he extended it to me, "Open it."

I was in a daze. His demeanor reminded me of our schooldays when he, in high school, always came to pick me up from the middle school.

Sometimes, when he got hold of something rare, he would present it to me just like now, mysteriously yet proudly offering it up.

Only now, my heart didn’t have the happiness and sweetness of back then.

Seeing I wasn’t responding, Timothy Xavier opened the box himself. Inside lay the diamond ring Mason had mentioned.

The conversation between Julian and Mason replayed in my mind. Staring at the ring, I could only feel an overwhelming sense of irony.

Timothy Xavier didn’t seem to notice my mood, taking my hand and placing the ring on my ring finger, admiring it closely: "Not bad, the size fits just right."

The cold metal against my skin made me instinctively want to take it off. I made an excuse, "It’s inconvenient for work. What if it gets damaged..."

"If it gets damaged, I’ll just buy another one."

He interrupted me, his tone deepening with obvious displeasure, "You wanted to sleep in separate rooms, wanted time to cool off, I’ve complied with everything. But you should know when to stop; don’t think I don’t know what you’re up to?"

I clenched my fist slightly but ultimately didn’t take off the ring.

Dinner was eaten in silence.

At night, the winter wind buzzed against the glass windows.

While I was updating my novel in the room, a maid knocked on the door, saying, "Madam, Sir would like you to go to the dressing room."

Puzzled, but I went nonetheless.

Timothy Xavier was rummaging through the dressing room, seemingly looking for something.

Seeing me, he asked, "Where did you put the sweaters and scarves you knitted for me before? It’s getting cold tomorrow, perfect to wear them."

I paused slightly. Were those the very gifts I had woven, unraveled, and re-woven several times, poking my fingers numerous times until they were finally completed and given to him?

Back then, those scarves and sweaters were glanced at by him, casually stored in the cabinet, never even tried on. Why remember them now?

I replied calmly, "Seeing you never wore them, leaving them unused was wasteful, so I sent them to the clothing donation box. At least they’ll keep the homeless warm."