Broken Oath: I Left, He Regretted-Chapter 163: Zoe Ellison, I Want You Right Now [Uncle’s Not Pretending Anymore!]

Chapter 163: Chapter 163: Zoe Ellison, I Want You Right Now [Uncle’s Not Pretending Anymore!]

The Xavier Group.

Timothy Xavier strode quickly through the revolving door, the exhaustion of travel still evident between his brows, but the heavy atmosphere hit him so abruptly that fatigue was instantly swept away.

Jack Sullivan had long been waiting at the CEO’s private elevator.

Inside the office, his face was pale and anxious as he reported, "President Xavier, there’s a scandal about funds being misappropriated in the Westside project you’re in charge of. The board called an emergency meeting this morning, and several old shareholders are discussing removing you!"

Timothy froze, immediately flipping open the file Jack had handed him. Sure enough, there was the government’s official stamp demanding the Westside project halt and make corrections.

And just as bad, a huge amount of upfront investment had already gone into this project.

Now, with the project shut down, no wonder those shareholders were jumping out of their skin.

Timothy slammed the folder hard against the desk—the papers scattering messily.

He’d once thought Ethan Xavier was nothing more than a spoiled kid hanging onto his father, incapable of stirring up real trouble.

But in just a few days, Ethan had surgically struck while Timothy was away—tampering with the most important project he was responsible for this year. Ruthless. Fast. Far beyond what he’d expected.

Jack glanced at Timothy’s grim face, trying carefully to comfort him, "President Xavier, maybe it’s not as bad as it looks. You’ve held the CEO seat at Xavier Group for years, made the company so much money. They can’t possibly kick you out over just this. Ethan is all bluff! If he had any real ability, he’d have taken over a long time ago."

Timothy’s tone was cold but certain: "The only reason Ethan hasn’t been directly promoted is because Donovan Xavier knows Ethan doesn’t have a signature project to show off. If he were promoted rashly, no one would accept him."

He walked to the floor-to-ceiling windows, staring at the endless traffic below, his mind a tangled mess.

After a long silence, Timothy sighed, enunciating every word: "Once Ethan lands a project that satisfies the shareholders, it won’t be long before I’m completely kicked out. I really underestimated him before."

Jack said, "Even if you land a new project, it takes a ton of effort. Ethan’s average at best—what’s he gonna use to land a good deal? Even if he gets lucky, it’ll be small potatoes. The board, those old foxes, won’t give a damn."

Timothy closed his eyes, massaging his brow in exhaustion.

He waved his hand, voice hoarse: "Leave. I need to be alone."

Jack looked at Timothy’s dejected silhouette, didn’t dare say another word, and quietly closed the office door behind him.

Only Timothy Xavier remained in the office.

Outside, the windows looked down on a city ablaze with ten thousand lights.

Timothy sat alone in the dark, the cigarette between his fingers burning long, ashing away.

The air was thick with tobacco and bitterness. He’d lost his wife and child—and now, even his proud career was about to slip away.

In that moment, even his breathing felt painful.

Just then, Jack Sullivan came rushing back in, face deathly pale, reporting, "President Xavier, Ethan, he..."

But as he was about to continue, he glanced nervously at Timothy’s dark profile, swallowing his words instead.

"We’re already at this point—what isn’t worth saying?"

Timothy snapped his head up, fury trembling in his eyes, his voice as cold as ice: "Speak!"

Jack was sweating, voice trembling: "Ethan secured a deal with The Sinclair Group and The Hawthorne Group! That new energy project—Sinclair shot us down before, but now they’ve given it to Ethan. And he’s even secured the overseas loan we couldn’t get, too!"

Timothy’s eyes narrowed sharply, his knuckles whitened to the verge of bruising.

So that’s what’s going on!

He should have expected Julian Sinclair wouldn’t just let it go!

It all clicked for him, and he said, "No wonder—the move was so quick, so vicious, striking right at the dead spot. That’s not Ethan, that’s Julian Sinclair’s handiwork!"

Just then, a knock came at the door, followed by Ethan Xavier’s playful voice outside, "Dear big brother—are you in? May I come in?"

Timothy’s jaw clenched so hard he nearly ground his teeth to dust. He acted as if he hadn’t heard, simply signaling to Jack to open the door.

Jack unlocked the door and blocked the entrance, snapping, "Second Young Master Xavier! This is the CEO’s office—how dare you barge in?"

Ethan grinned, glancing inside, deliberately loud enough for Timothy to hear: "This may be the CEO’s office now, but soon it’ll have a new owner. My dear brother lost us a project, cost the company big time—good thing I saved the day and landed a new deal. So who’s more suited for the CEO’s seat, hmm?"

Jack was speechless, turning anxiously to Timothy.

Timothy slowly stood, taking measured steps toward Ethan, his eyes burning with barely restrained rage, almost consuming everything in their path.

Ethan didn’t flinch, instead leaning in, smirking provocatively: "What? Wanna hit me? Go ahead. I spent a few days in detention last time—wasn’t so bad. Maybe it’s your turn. Fair’s fair."

Timothy’s fists clenched tight, nails cutting deep into his palms.

But he knew he couldn’t lose control.

He was surrounded, attacked from all sides. If he let Ethan bait him into jail, he’d really be done for.

As long as he kept himself intact, there was still a chance to turn things around.

Timothy took a deep breath, forcing down the fury, voice icy: "Don’t celebrate too soon."

Then he turned and walked out.

In the hallway, colleagues who’d once shown him utmost respect now shrank aside—fear and curiosity in their eyes.

As he walked by, whispers immediately swept up behind him. All those pointing fingers felt like needles stabbing his back.

Timothy straightened his spine—the walk out of Xavier Group that day felt longer than his whole damn life.

...

Meanwhile.

Doris was at home, bored out of her mind, watching TV. She asked me, "Mom, when’s Uncle Hawthorne bringing Sharon home? Did Sharon end up back with her evil mother?"

I’d been worrying too—it’d been days without a word about Sharon.

Just then, my phone rang—it was Mason Hawthorne calling.

I answered right away. Mason’s tone was almost pleading on the other end, nothing like his usual snarkiness.

"Miss Ellison, are you free to drop by The Gilded Lily and pick up Sharon? I’ve got something on, can’t get away just now."

I did think Mason was a bit much!

I watched his kid for him, but he couldn’t even take a minute to bring her home—expects me to go fetch her?

Still, Doris and I missed Sharon, so I agreed.

After hanging up, I warned Doris to stay home and not open the door for anyone, stacked up her favorite snacks, set up the tablet, and turned on cartoons for her.

Only then did I feel safe enough to go out after Sharon.

Arriving at The Gilded Lily, a server led me to a private suite.

Pushing open the door, I froze.

No Sharon—just Ethan Xavier, Julian Sinclair, and Mason Hawthorne.

Warm yellow light glowed. Julian sat at the center sofa with a wine glass, his gaze darkening when it landed on me.

Mason glanced awkwardly as I came in, rubbing his nose.

I realized Mason had probably tricked me and turned to leave.

But Ethan blocked my way, grinning, "Zoe, it was me who got Mason to lure you here. Sharon’s playing downstairs in the arcade. Just stay with us a while!"

I shot him a glare, annoyed: "What’s up with you now? Why would I sit with you all? Just let me find Sharon—I’m taking her home!"

Ethan wouldn’t budge, pestering shamelessly, "Wait, wait! Why so anxious? I’ve got good news for you!"

He started rambling, eager to brag about how the three of them had set a trap for Timothy Xavier, and now he was about to be kicked out of The Xavier Group!

I was startled. I hadn’t heard anything about Timothy for ages—could his situation really be that bad?

I accidentally met Julian Sinclair’s eyes; he looked at me too, his gaze unreadable.

Ethan dragged me to sit at the table, "It’s late—let’s eat, chat! Time to celebrate!"

At that moment, Julian eased over to the table, sitting right beside me.

I was squirming in my seat.

Mason raised his glass: "Come on, let’s celebrate early!"

Then he seemed to say it loud for my benefit: "Timothy, that loser, actually thought he could steal Julian’s wife? Pathetic!"

Julian drained his glass, showing no disagreement with Mason’s gloating.

I wished I could dig a hole and bury myself.

Mason saw I was quiet, and needled me: "Miss Ellison, did I hit a nerve? You feeling sorry for him? All gloomy—afraid Timothy goes bankrupt, gets divorced, and you don’t get your cut?"

Ethan tried to hush him with glances, but Mason just kept digging at me, in that sarcastic way of his.

I met his gaze, unruffled: "Mr. Hawthorne, you seem to know a lot about divorce settlements. Maybe you should tell us how you split things with Mrs. Hawthorne, so I can take notes. How much did she get?"

Mason was briefly caught off guard, clearly ticked off.

Julian spoke up then, "You two, out."

Mason and Ethan instantly understood, both standing to slip out.

I had no idea why Julian was kicking the others out—leaving just us two here.

I was about to get up when I noticed Julian slumped against his chair, fighting something inside.

His pale skin was now flushed; his usually cool, deep eyes glazed with moisture, dark and intense.

A sense of dread swept over me instantly.

Panic welled up—I was terrified something would happen that couldn’t be taken back. I scrambled up, trying to head for the door.

But I’d barely taken a step when a burning grip caught my wrist.

The next moment, I tumbled into Julian’s arms, his hot body pressing up against me in an instant.

His broad chest encircled me, the familiar scent—blended with wine and feverish heat—made my whole body tense up.

Instinctively, I tried to push him away, hands braced on his chest, and felt the burning warmth of his skin through his shirt and his wildly beating heart.

"Attorney Sinclair, you... Let me go."

I flailed, half-incoherent.

But he didn’t loosen his hold—instead, his arm wrapped firmly around my waist, keeping me pinned to him, his voice thick and hoarse: "Zoe Ellison, I want you. Right now."

The words crashed in my ears like thunder.

I jerked in fright, panicking and turning away, my voice trembling on the edge of tears: "Julian, please, look at me—I’m not even divorced yet! You’re out of your mind! Let me go!"

But before I could finish, he suddenly swept me up and laid me down on the soft couch.

His tall frame loomed over me, shadow swallowing me whole, his moves possessive and unstoppable.

Julian lowered his gaze, suppressed emotions churning in his eyes: "Before, I was too clear-headed—that’s why I let you go again and again. Being out of my mind now? Fine by me."

I tried to say more, but he was already pinning my wrists to the sides of the couch—his lips crashed down without warning.

There was no rough aggression, only the wild need after desperate self-control—a kiss both deep and urgent.

My heart went haywire. My head screamed to push him away, but the longing buried inside me was fully awakened by the heat of his embrace.

...

Outside the door.

Mason Hawthorne and Ethan Xavier didn’t leave.

Ethan’s brows were tightly furrowed—he demanded, "Mason, what did you put in Julian’s drink?"

He’d noticed Julian’s flushed face, ragged breathing; it dawned on him fast.

Mason leaned against the wall, lit up a cigarette, smoke curling, answering with a careless swagger, "Hurt him? I’m helping him!"

He inhaled, blew smoke rings, "You know how Julian is—always playing by the rules, restraining himself. That’s why Zoe Ellison pushes him further every time. She’s gotten way too bold because of it!"

Ethan stared at him in disbelief, "Wait, spell it out!"

"Tonight—let them do the deed, get it over with!"

Mason stubbed out his cigarette in the trash, "Once it’s done, where’s Zoe going to escape to? She’ll have to stay with Julian, like it or not!"

Just as they were talking, they spotted Timothy Xavier stepping out of the elevator with a business partner.

Once so arrogant, Timothy was practically begging now: "President Morgan, we’ve worked together so many times—you know me. Work with me and you won’t lose out."

But before he could finish, President Morgan cut him off.

"Timothy, it’s not that I won’t help you—your father, Chairman Xavier, already spoke to me. And besides, your little brother’s the rising star now. If I work with you, I’m siding against them."

President Morgan was barely listening; before Timothy could say another word, he hurried off.

Timothy swallowed his anger, glancing over his shoulder just in time to catch sight of two figures at the suite door.

Them?

Heh, isn’t it just fate?

Mason and Ethan had spotted him, too.

Mason deliberately raised his voice, "Tonight we better guard Julian’s door—can’t let the cooked duck fly away and ruin his big moment!"

Timothy instantly understood, shock flashing in his eyes as he stared at the closed door behind them.

Rage surged, but was quickly drowned out by even deeper heartbreak.

Turns out, on the worst day of his life, Zoe Ellison was in there with those three celebrating—celebrating his total loss.

On his darkest day, she couldn’t wait to jump into bed with Julian Sinclair.

Heh, what could he say?

His eyes were hollow as he stared at that door, just staring.

After a long time, Timothy suddenly gave a low, bitter laugh—filled with self-mockery and sorrow.

He didn’t charge in, didn’t make a scene—just slowly turned, stumbling down the hall, vanishing into the dark.

Ethan saw and frowned.

He thought Timothy would rush in and blow up the place.

Normally, Timothy would never tolerate such provocation.

But now, he didn’t say a word—just left?

Ethan bit his lip, uneasy, throwing Mason a glare, "Helping Julian’s one thing, but why antagonize Timothy like that? What if he jumps off a building and his crazy mother comes after you?"

Mason shrugged, unconcerned: "What could happen? He stupidly tried to steal Julian’s girl—he got what he deserved."

Then Mason gave Ethan a meaningful look, "And if something does happen, even better. Your seat’s more secure."

"I don’t want to go that far!" Ethan snapped, voice stiff, "No matter what, he’s my dad’s son."

Just then, the suite door flew open, startling them out of their conversation.

They turned to see Zoe Ellison blushing furiously, dashing out, nearly tripping over herself.

She didn’t even look at them—just bolted past as if running from a ghost.

Mason and Ethan exchanged glances as they watched her retreat.

Ethan muttered, stunned, "Is it done? That was fast."

Mason scratched his chin, thought for a moment, then shook his head, "Hard to say. Come on, let’s peek inside."