Serena’s face was deathly pale. Afraid of causing a scene and losing face, she had no choice but to grit her teeth and bear it.
Timothy Xavier spoke up at this mont.
His tone was assertive yet condescending, like a reminder tossed with pity: "You probably aren’t aware that Sean Sinclair never gives dia interviews. His research project is top-secret, and even bigwigs in the industry can’t pry a word from him. You’re just a reporter; today was a wasted trip for you. Interviewing would be more productive."
After he spoke, Peter Sawyer and his son, along with Serena, wore expressions of schadenfreude.
They looked like they couldn’t wait to see grovel for inside information from Timothy Xavier.
Just as the mockery from The Sawyer Family was about to overflow, a gentle and kind voice ca from behind: "Zoe? What are you doing here?"
I turned around swiftly and saw Madam Sinclair, dressed elegantly, slowly walking up beside .
"Madam Sinclair, you’re here too?" I approached quickly, surprised and delighted. "I’m here to interview Professor Sean Sinclair today, but how co you’re here as well?"
Madam Sinclair’s cold gaze swept over Timothy Xavier,
and then, showing a hint of disdain, she glanced at Serena before speaking to as if no one else was around.
"You’re interviewing Sean Sinclair?" she asked.
I nodded and replied, troubled, "I heard Professor Sinclair never gives interviews. But it wasn’t a wasted trip today; at least I got to see you. I’ve missed you."
"Interviewing Sean? That’s no problem at all."
Madam Sinclair smiled, raised her eyes toward an area on the other side of the venue where Sean Sinclair was conversing with others, and called out, "Sean, co over here."
The figure surrounded by people turned at her call, and it was indeed Professor Sean Sinclair, looking even leaner than in his photos.
He walked over quickly, courteously addressing Madam Sinclair, "Mom, what’s up?"
My pupils contracted as I suddenly realized the connection.
Even Timothy Xavier’s group froze. This connection clearly exceeded their expectations.
After all, Sean Sinclair’s reputation in academia was so prominent, built entirely on his rits, that people often forgot his identity and background.
Madam Sinclair first introduced him to : "Sean is my youngest son, and Julian’s uncle. I just ca along because I was bored at ho."
Then she introduced to Sean Sinclair, "This is Zoe, whom I ntioned to you last ti. Do you rember?"
Sean Sinclair suddenly understood and nodded, "Oh, is she the one you wanted to introduce to Julian? But in the end... it didn’t work out for so reason, right?"
Madam Sinclair coughed awkwardly, while Timothy Xavier’s eyes were extrely sharp. Yet he was extrely rational; no matter how angry he was, he wouldn’t reveal our relationship in public.
I awkwardly opened up: "Professor Sinclair, do you have so ti? I ca specifically today to interview you about your new project."
Sean Sinclair said warmly, "Of course. I’ve read many of your reports, and they’re often hot topics—I know of you."
Thus, in respect of Madam Sinclair, he did not refuse and directly agreed.
Not far away, Timothy Xavier’s face had turned incredibly grim, filled with unwillingness yet utter helplessness.
Serena, needless to say, couldn’t hide the jealousy in her eyes as she watched connect with The Sinclairs.
Only Miles Sawyer foolishly remarked: "Ha, dare to co out and seek attention with just a fledgling project!"
Sean Sinclair seed to treat his remarks as air, originally going to the lounge for the interview, but he started the interview with right in front of them.
"Our project currently focuses on dication-based therapy, and we have made breakthrough progress. Compared to traditional devices, this dication can act directly on the lesions, causing less trauma to patients. If the upcoming clinical trials go smoothly, it is expected to be on the market in a year. Moreover, the price will definitely be much cheaper than a two million heart-lung support device. Even ordinary citizens can afford it."
After he finished, the faces of Peter Sawyer and his son turned pale.
This implied that if Sean Sinclair’s project succeeded, Peter Sawyer’s ten-year-long research device would be directly abandoned by the market.
And the Xavier Group’s previous investnt of over two billion dollars in this equipnt would all be lost.
Although Sean Sinclair’s tone was calm, it was firm, giving great confidence as well.
Once this drug hits the market, I can completely break off from Timothy Xavier.
By then, I could even tear our relationship apart, exposing his affairs and outing Serena as a mistress, bringing all their scandals to light.
With that thought, I couldn’t help but slightly tremble as I held the microphone.
After the interview, Madam Sinclair said to , "You haven’t visited ho for a al in a while. It’s perfect that we ran into each other today. Co with to have a good al."
At this mont, Timothy Xavier suddenly spoke, "Zoe Ellison, Doris hasn’t been feeling well lately; it might be the aftereffects of surgery. Do you want to go with to visit her?"
I paused and then said, "She might feel even worse seeing . Having you there is enough! I don’t want to add to her trouble."
Saying this, I turned to Madam Sinclair and said, "Madam, in that case, I won’t be formal with you and will join you for a al."
"Why be so polite to ?"
Madam Sinclair gave a cold snort at Timothy Xavier’s group, then directly led out of the venue.
...
The Sinclair Family.
The al today was relatively relaxed, with Julian Sinclair not at ho.
Though unfamiliar with Sean Sinclair, without Julian’s oppressive pressure, I was at least not so nervous.
During the al, Madam Sinclair suddenly asked, "Sean, weren’t you previously researching sothing about congenital heart disease? Why did you suddenly shift to the heart-lung field?"
Sean Sinclair smiled briefly, "Speaking of which, I owe it to Julian. This project was invested in by him. I checked a lot of information afterward and found this field lacks results, making it a worthwhile direction to research."
I paused my hand holding the chopsticks; Julian Sinclair invested?
I dared not think further.
Madam Sinclair didn’t continue the topic, her gaze lingering on for a while, then she said to Sean Sinclair, "By the way, should I take you to see Zoe’s mother this afternoon? Her mother has this condition; maybe it could help with your research."
"Sure."
Sean Sinclair nodded and agreed.
I looked gratefully at Madam Sinclair; the Sinclairs are truly my benefactors, all of them.
After lunch, Madam Sinclair rested for a while.
Then, we headed to the hospital where my mother was.
When Sean Sinclair saw my mother in the hospital bed, he suddenly froze, appearing very shocked: "Isn’t this...?"
Madam Sinclair nodded, "Yes, she is Eleanor. It’s impressive that after so many years you can still recognize her."
Sean Sinclair stood still, murmuring, "Of course I’d recognize her. But how could it be such a coincidence?"
Madam Sinclair said, "There once was an incident where Eleanor was slandered, and it made the dia. Didn’t you see the news then? I thought you knew."
"I usually only follow academic news. How would I know about these things?"
Sean Sinclair sighed deeply, "She has ended up like this? What did the doctor say? Is there no chance of waking up?"
I replied gloomily, "My mother has been lying here for twenty years. The doctors say the hope of waking up is slim to none; now we can only try to preserve her life and extend her survival ti."
Sean Sinclair kept looking at my mother in a daze, seemingly lost in thought, not saying a word.
It was still Madam Sinclair who reminded him, "Sean, what’s on your mind?"
Sean Sinclair imdiately withdrew his gaze, smiling awkwardly, "Eleanor used to co to the house to learn piano from you frequently. She was so beautiful back then!"
Madam Sinclair sighed, "Yes, marrying the wrong person. Ah, Eleanor and her daughter, both married the wrong man!"
At this, she said to Sean Sinclair, "You must do your best to develop the drug, so that Timothy Xavier won’t keep threatening Zoe with it every day."
Sean Sinclair paused for a mont and nodded, "Okay, I’ll do my best."
"Thank you, Professor Sinclair."
I almost regarded him as my last straw to clutch at and said, "I await your good news."
...
In the blink of an eye, Friday arrived.
The editor-in-chief was officially leaving next week, with Victoria Monroe taking over the role.
Our news departnt booked a room at a hotel to bid farewell to the editor-in-chief.
Victoria Monroe also booked a karaoke room, enthusiastically saying, "After dinner, let’s all go sing!"
Although we notified Julian Sinclair before,
we couldn’t help but think that such small company entertainnt wouldn’t be of interest to Julian Sinclair.
But shortly after we arrived at the hotel, soone exclaid, "Oh my God, President Sinclair is here!"
Victoria Monroe and I were simultaneously shocked.
The editor-in-chief vacated the central seat for Julian Sinclair to sit.
The lively private room instantly fell silent because of Julian Sinclair’s arrival.
The departnt dinner suddenly felt like "overti."
Despite Julian Sinclair calmly saying, "Don’t be restrained, I’m here today to bid farewell to the editor-in-chief as well."
However, the sense of distance and oppressive presence of a superior he carried made no one dare to truly be relaxed.
Victoria Monroe quietly took out her phone and sent a ssage in the leadership-free group: "Tonight’s karaoke is canceled (crying)."
Colleagues were each disappointed, but had to squeeze out smiles to please Julian Sinclair.
Throughout the dinner, this person toasted Julian Sinclair, that person toasted Julian Sinclair, and Julian Sinclair ended up drinking quite a bit.
As I had driven over, I didn’t drink alcohol.
The tense dinner eventually ended.
To be honest, it was probably the fastest dinner I had ever ended.
Afterwards, Julian Sinclair declined the editor-in-chief’s offer to drive him ho, calmly saying, "I’ll wait for my assistant."
anwhile, I went to the bathroom.
As I was leaving, I happened to encounter Jolie Joyce at the hotel entrance, rushing over, "President Sinclair, Leo Grant had an unexpected family situation, so I’m here to take you ho."
I pretended not to hear and intended to quickly slip past them.
But as soon as I took a few steps, Julian Sinclair called out, "Zoe Ellison, you drive ."
I had to stop, forcing myself to turn back, "? But Secretary Joyce is..."
My intent to refuse seed slightly obvious, which displeased Julian Sinclair.
Jolie Joyce gave a fierce glance and quickly said to Julian Sinclair, "President Sinclair, I’m your secretary, escorting you ho is my duty."
Julian Sinclair glanced at her, his tone turning cold, "Your duty is up to to decide. Also, your perfu is giving a headache."
Jolie Joyce instantly felt awkward and helpless.
Julian Sinclair directly tossed the car keys to , "Drive ho."
Holding his car keys, I could no longer refuse, and so we headed to the parking garage together.
Behind , Jolie Joyce’s gaze seed as if it could slice a piece of my flesh off.
In the parking garage, I moved to the driver’s seat, and quickly, the passenger side door opened.
I was taken aback, thinking Julian Sinclair, being a superior, would surely sit in the back row, leaving as the driver.
But Julian Sinclair stopped and didn’t move further inside.
He looked at my puzzled expression and asked, "Can’t I sit here? Afraid I’ll eat you?"
I hurriedly shook my head, "No... this is your car, you can sit wherever you’d like."
Julian Sinclair suddenly closed the car door and went to sit in the back row.
I seed to sense the man’s displeasure, not daring to speak, as I drove the car out of the parking garage slowly.
Through the rearview mirror, I saw Julian Sinclair leaning back against the seat, eyes closed, long eyelashes falling and shielding his eyes, even his breathing heavier than usual, tinged with a trace of drunkenness.
I carefully asked, "President Sinclair, are you going to The Sinclair Estate?"
The man remained with eyes partially shut, lips lightly parted, "Go to my own ho."
Seeing I hadn’t responded, he opened his eyes and t mine through the rearview mirror.
His voice was low and husky, with so ambiguous aning, "Haven’t you been there? Even had a sleepover in my ho. Don’t tell you’ve forgotten."
My heart skipped abruptly, and my face turned warm as I hurriedly said, "Oh, I... I rember."
Throughout the journey, I didn’t dare speak again, only feeling my heart beat a little out of rhythm.
Eventually, as the car steadily stopped at his villa’s entrance, I breathed a sigh of relief.
I got out of the car, returned the keys to him, and said goodbye, "President Sinclair, please rest well, I’ll head back now."
"Wait."
He stopped , gently pinching the bridge of his nose, "There’s a favor I need from you. Co in with ."
I stood hesitantly, looking at him.
This late at night, a man and woman alone...
"I-it’s quite late, isn’t it a bit inconvenient? I need to get back to update my novel, my readers are waiting..."
Before I could finish speaking, Julian Sinclair suddenly grabbed my wrist and directly led into the villa.
But as soon as I entered, I froze.
On the living room sofa sat a little girl about the sa age as Doris.
The girl held a rabbit doll in her arms, her head lowered, her dark hair covering half her face, quiet and motionless.
Even when we entered, she didn’t look up, her whole deanor carrying a vibe of loneliness.
My mind suddenly went blank, staring at Julian Sinclair in confusion, stamringly asking, "You... Your child... is this old already?"
Wasn’t he supposed to be a bachelor, never finding a partner?
Didn’t Madam Sinclair never ntioned Julian Sinclair having such a grown-up daughter before?
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