Broken Oath: I Left, He Regretted-Chapter 167: Julian Sinclair’s Counterattack

Chapter 167: Chapter 167: Julian Sinclair’s Counterattack

I returned from the hospital, feeling as if a stone were lodged in my chest, suffocating and unbearably heavy.

I kept thinking of myself like a trapped beast, its neck squeezed tight by a snake, almost unable to breathe.

Just then, Ethan Xavier came to my house.

Upon seeing me, he cut straight to the point: "Are you really going to get back together with Timothy Xavier? For Julian Sinclair’s sake, you’re pushing yourself back into hell—is it worth it?"

I spoke in a muffled voice: "If I don’t agree, Timothy will drag Julian and Madam Sinclair down with him. Madam Sinclair has lived a life of spotless integrity—how could she bear all that filth and slander? You’ve seen what people said when I was attacked online—their words were awful. I can endure it, Julian can too, but Madam Sinclair is so old. She doesn’t have to suffer this because of me!"

Ethan Xavier frowned deeply, as if struggling with something. After a moment, he finally spoke slowly, "Did you tell Julian about any of this?"

I shook my head, a bitter smile tugging at my lips: "If I did, he definitely wouldn’t stand by and watch. But having him go head to head with Timothy Xavier because of me—it’s not worth it."

My voice fell even lower: "And... I think he’s mad at me. Ever since Timothy posted the wedding announcement on X, he hasn’t contacted me at all."

Ethan said, "Julian’s mother is in critical condition. He’s been busy taking care of all that—he can’t possibly make time for you right now. He knows what kind of person Timothy Xavier is—he wouldn’t be angry with you. He cares too much about you!"

My heart sank, suddenly recalling Timothy’s words—that my grandmother died because of the mess with me and Julian.

A wave of guilt and tenderness crashed over me; my chest felt blocked, and even breathing became difficult.

Ethan saw my shattered state, sighing softly, "Don’t blame yourself too much. Julian didn’t tell you because he didn’t want you distracted. He’s always looking out for you. Never once has he blamed you."

I nodded, my eyes growing red.

Ethan comforted me for a long time, but in the end, he still couldn’t find a way for me to truly break free.

....

The elevator descended slowly, its mirrored walls reflecting Ethan Xavier’s troubled face. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

His handsome features were veiled in shadow, none of his former sunny bravado to be seen.

His fingers unconsciously rubbed the edge of his phone, as a crystal-clear thought circled in Ethan’s mind: As long as Naomi Sawyer appeared before Timothy Xavier again, that obsessive, unstable man would instantly fixate on her, and leave Zoe alone for good.

He’d gone to extraordinary lengths to rescue Naomi Sawyer from the psychiatric hospital for this very day—to make Naomi his ace, the dagger pointed at Timothy Xavier.

Yet now, the thought made him inexplicably agitated.

Suddenly, he didn’t want to do it. He refused to let Timothy Xavier see Naomi even for a brief second.

But then, what about Zoe?

Ethan couldn’t stand watching her suffer. Back in the car, he pulled out his phone and, without hesitation, dialed Julian Sinclair’s number.

He didn’t believe Julian could just stand by and let Timothy Xavier keep Zoe Ellison trapped.

The phone rang for a long time before it was finally picked up, and it was Leo Grant’s heavy voice that came through: "Young Master Xavier, you need something from Attorney Sinclair?"

"Yes, I do. Where’s Julian?" Ethan’s tone was anxious, his speech a little rushed.

Leo let out a weighty sigh. "Attorney Sinclair’s mother... she’s not going to make it. He’s in her hospital room, saying goodbye. Unless it’s urgent, I’d suggest not bothering him right now. He’s at his breaking point."

Ethan’s heart thudded, his grip tightening around his phone.

On one side was Timothy Xavier, escalating his every move—every day he posted publicly about his "wedding progress" with Zoe Ellison on social platforms, cornering her from all directions; on the other side, Julian Sinclair was consumed by the grief of his mother’s imminent passing, unable to deal with anything else.

Ethan thought hard for a long time, then called his people: "Spread the news that Timothy Xavier is being ousted from the Xavier Group—make sure it gets plenty of traction, and ideally, drown out the talk of his wedding with Zoe Ellison."

Once he hung up, he muttered to himself, "Zoe, this is all I can do for you."

He really couldn’t bring himself to give up Naomi.

....

When I saw X flooded with news of Timothy Xavier’s removal, I knew Ethan Xavier must have intervened.

But Timothy Xavier was never someone you could just walk all over.

When the news broke, Timothy didn’t pay any attention to the sarcastic comments, nor did he reply to any questions about his job.

Instead, he posted a photo from a hospital bed, with a shot of me in the background, and a caption: "With a wife like this, what more could a husband ask for?"

He was deliberately propping me up as the perfect wife—putting me right in the center of the public’s gaze. If I dared to think of leaving, I’d immediately be branded heartless and cold.

Netizens devoured this dramatic tale of love rekindled, crowding the comments to praise Timothy Xavier:

"President Xavier is so deep! Men who turn over a new leaf are so attractive. His wife is so gentle too—they must stay together!"

"I’m obsessed, I’m obsessed—when’s the wedding? Can’t wait to see this heavenly love story!"

"Now this is what a power couple should look like—supporting each other, it’s so enviable!"

Comments surged in like waves, pushing me into an even more awkward situation.

And Timothy Xavier went further, announcing right there in the comments: "Wedding will be at the end of the month. On that day, we’ll be giving away 20 million yuan in red envelopes—thanks for all the well wishes."

With that, the internet exploded.

Suddenly, everyone was anticipating this grand wedding.

Just then, my phone rang sharply—it was Jenna Sutton.

Her voice on the other end vibrated with fury: "Timothy Xavier is just shameless! He’s doing this on purpose—to tie you down with public opinion!"

I slumped against the back of my chair, closing my eyes in exhaustion. "I know."

Jenna bit out, "He knows you wouldn’t risk Madam Sinclair and Julian Sinclair’s reputations by going head to head with him!"

I spoke bitterly: "Who would go nuclear with a lunatic? Last time I did, my mother paid with her life. She’s gone, and all it changed was that Serena Sawyer’s parents spent a few years in jail. If I did it again, the Sinclair Family would get buried in mud—and he’d do whatever it takes to send Madam Sinclair to her grave. Timothy Xavier’s reputation is beyond saving, but the Sinclairs can’t afford that. I lost. I accept it."

No matter how capable Julian Sinclair is, he can’t silence every voice.

Madam Sinclair would always be stung by ugly words.

After hanging up with Jenna, Doris walked into my room.

I forced myself to rally, pulled her into my arms, and asked, "It’s almost midnight, why aren’t you asleep?"

Doris looked puzzled and lost, and said, "Today all the kids at kindergarten asked if my mom and dad are getting married. But Mommy, didn’t you say you didn’t like Daddy?"

All night, I couldn’t sleep—my mind replayed the shattered scenes from all the years of marriage.

Every hurt was like a blade, slicing me up without mercy.

But Timothy Xavier wouldn’t let me go, or anyone close to me.

Even Doris, now, had heard the whispers outside.

I was truly exhausted—had no strength left to resist. If this is how it has to be, then I’ll spend the rest of my life as a soulless shell, bound to him.

I mulled it over all night, and by morning, the headline "Timothy Xavier’s extravagant wedding" had been replaced by something else.

The Sinclair Group’s official site published Diana Caldwell’s obituary, announcing that the Sinclair and Kendall families would hold a joint funeral for her.

With the obituary out, Ethan’s hired influencers instantly spread the word that Diana Caldwell was Timothy Xavier’s grandmother—blanketing the internet.

Netizens abandoned the wedding talk for news of the funeral.

The comments section on Timothy’s X changed dramatically:

"My condolences."

"With a family elder passing, the wedding surely has to be postponed, right?"

"President Xavier will surely put mourning first—the wedding can wait."

I never imagined that, cornered as I was by Timothy Xavier’s schemes, it would be Julian Sinclair’s mother’s death that momentarily gave me a chance to breathe.

In that moment, I felt myself grow sharper.

Julian Sinclair always drew a clear line between family and business—the Sinclair Group had never posted anything private, let alone touch the history Diana Caldwell left behind; he’d always considered it a painful shame.

But this time, he made quite a scene, publicizing the obituary, and even mentioning the joint funeral with the Kendalls.

He’d seen it—he must have seen me suffering under the weight of public scrutiny.

This was how he chose to help—calmly and quietly, he shielded me from harm.

All this time, he hadn’t contacted me, hadn’t said a single extra word, and yet, when I was most alone, he opened a new path for me with his steadiness and strength.

A scorching warmth spread through my body, melting the chill and hopelessness of recent days. Turns out, he never abandoned me. He’d always protected me in his own way.

I suddenly wanted nothing more than to rush to his side, hold him tight, soothe his grief, and tell him I’ve never once regretted meeting him.

The Sinclair Group had just issued a statement. Given what Julian Sinclair was facing, the tabloids would surely pounce soon.

I didn’t dare visit him during the day; I waited until deep into the night before driving to the Sinclair Estate.

....

Only the porch light still shone warm and yellow at the Sinclair villa.

Madam Sinclair was about to retire when she saw me arrive, surprise etched across her face.

She hurried over and held my hand with tender concern.

"Silly child, why are you here at this hour?"

Her palm was full of grandmotherly warmth, her voice gentle as she questioned me.

My eyes stung, emotions roiling beneath the surface. I said softly, "I... I came to see Attorney Sinclair. Is he in?"

At the mention of Julian Sinclair, distress softened her features.

She glanced up toward the second floor, sighing: "He’s been in his study since he got home. Go and see him."

I nodded and headed upstairs.

At the door to his study, my heart thumped faster and faster.

Then a slightly hoarse voice floated out: "Come in."

Pushing open the door, I saw his tall figure by the floor-to-ceiling window.

The moon outside washed him in silvery light, dusting his shoulders in a pale glow—he looked wrapped up in a cocoon of unspeakable melancholy.

He turned around slowly, the light reflecting off his glasses barely hiding the intensity in his eyes, like he was weighed down by a thousand unspoken sorrows.

He stayed where he was, just looking at me, quietly and deeply.

I walked straight to him and flung myself into his arms, no warning at all.

Julian’s arms hesitated at his sides, then slowly rose to hold me gently, soothingly across my back.

"I was starting to think you were here to comfort me. Turns out, I’m the one who’s supposed to comfort you."

He spoke close to my hair, his voice rough with fatigue, but almost imperceptibly warm, too.

I looked up at him, my eyes full of tears. Choking out the words, I tried to explain: "I thought you were angry with me. But I didn’t dare reach out—I knew what happened to your mother was hard for you. I didn’t want to be a bother..."

Before I could finish, he cupped my cheeks in his hands, and his warm lips landed on mine, silencing everything I hadn’t said.

After a long moment, his forehead rested against mine as he whispered, "You fool, you’ll never be a burden to me."

I struggled to ask, careful and sad, "How did your mother’s illness get so much worse so suddenly? Was it... because of us?"

"Don’t think that way. It wasn’t your fault." Julian’s every word was steady and soothing: "Even if her illness worsened because of this, it was my fault. I was the one who refused to let go, and you’d already clarified that there was nothing between us."

My heart was aching—I’d come here to comfort him, but ended up being comforted instead.

I forced the words out: "I didn’t want to let go, either. But..."

"I know," he interrupted gently. "As for my mother—her illness was terminal from the start. I did my best, so I’ve no regrets. You don’t need to regret, and you certainly shouldn’t blame yourself."

....

Meanwhile...

In the hospital room, Timothy Xavier’s eyes were bloodshot, rage radiating off him in waves.

Julian Sinclair’s abrupt announcement had completely ruined all his plans.

The prelude to his and Zoe Ellison’s wedding was supposed to be at its most critical moment, but now the news of Julian’s mother’s death had locked the trending topics in place.

He knew exactly what this was—Julian Sinclair’s deliberate retaliation, accurate and ruthless.

Swallowing his fury, Timothy opened his social media, forcing himself to reply to the questions pouring in.

His fingertip traced the screen, stopping at the most pointed question: "Are you considering postponing your wedding with your wife?"

He sneered. He’d stuck Zoe Ellison in the line of fire, and now Julian Sinclair was using the same trick—pushing him into the dangerous spotlight of moral judgment.

If he said he wouldn’t delay, the labels "cold-blooded" and "unfilial" would be slapped on instantly; but if he went along with the netizens, he’d be walking straight into Julian’s trap.

After a moment’s thought, Timothy’s fingers flew over the keyboard—he quickly published a statement: "I am deeply saddened by the passing of my grandmother, Diana Caldwell. In coming days, I will join my wife, Zoe Ellison, in helping the Sinclair and Kendall families to organize my grandmother’s funeral, fulfilling my duties as a grandson."

He made sure to emphasize "with my wife, Zoe Ellison."

He wanted Julian to see it—no matter what happened, only Timothy Xavier could publicly escort Zoe Ellison anywhere as her husband. No one else would touch her, not even for a moment!