CHAPTER 138: CHAPTER 138: THE SCUMBAG HUSBAND GETS BEATEN BY MY UNCLE, AND I BEGIN TO TORMENT THE MISTRESS

Sophia Kendall never used to care whether Diana Caldwell lived or died.

Though Diana raised her, by the time Diana married Byron Kendall, Sophia was already grown up and understood things—she was a big girl.

Back then, her biological mother had been dead for two years. Her father, filled with guilt, played both mom and dad and gave her whatever she wanted.

But one day, her father brought home a new wife who was barely ten years older than Sophia herself—and started fussing over and spoiling this woman. How could Sophia accept that?

Sophia made scenes, caused trouble, even tried to kill herself.

What she never expected was that Diana loved Byron so much she actually promised never to have children—Sophia would remain the only apple of her father’s eye.

And so, Diana always treated her like her own daughter.

Sophia might have called Diana "Mom" on the surface, but in her heart, no one knew better than herself that not for one moment had she considered Diana family.

She just wanted to keep Diana from ever daring to have her own child to compete for her father’s love.

She wanted to make Diana play the maid for her, unconditionally good to her.

What she didn’t expect was for Diana Caldwell to have such a capable son.

She always thought Diana’s life or death had nothing to do with her.

But now, Sophia was actually scared to have her die.

After all, she’d seen what Julian Sinclair was capable of. If he didn’t have some real skills, how could he find Zoe Ellison in such a short time—and bring her home from a wolf’s den like Burona, safe and sound?

It was at this moment Timothy Xavier rushed in, asking, "How’s Grandma?"

Before Sophia could answer, Julian Sinclair suddenly grabbed Timothy by the collar and landed a punch on him.

Sophia was terrified, screaming: "Julian Sinclair, what are you doing? Timothy did nothing to you, why are you hitting him? He’s still sick!"

Julian showed no mercy and punched Timothy on the other side of his face.

His eyes were icy cold as he told Sophia, "If I didn’t have a rule about not hitting women, these fists would be smashing your face right now. But fine, your son is here—he can take it for you."

Every punch Julian threw landed solidly on Timothy Xavier.

"Stop it! Stop!"

Sophia was scared out of her mind, fumbling out her phone and shrieking, "Julian Sinclair, I’m calling the police! This is assault—I’m going to have you locked up! Just you wait!"

A hand suddenly pressed down on her phone.

Leo Grant took the phone from her expressionlessly, his tone cold: "Ms. Kendall, I suggest you not escalate this."

He paused, his eyes sweeping over Sophia’s pale face, "President Sinclair always means what he says. You should consider the thousands of families at Xavier who rely on their jobs."

Sophia was terrified now and didn’t dare make another move.

But seeing her own son beaten by Julian Sinclair broke her heart.

She staggered over to Byron Kendall, not far away, pleading, "Dad! Please, do something! Timothy is your own grandson—you’re just going to stand by and watch him get beaten up?"

Byron’s brow was furrowed tightly. His gaze fell on Timothy’s bleeding mouth. There was pain and sadness in his eyes.

But those feelings were soon replaced by deeper disappointment and indignation at Timothy’s failure.

He forced down the words of plea on his lips and said gruffly, "If you want to blame someone, blame yourself for not raising your son properly. If you don’t discipline him, someone else will. Anyway, Julian is his elder—it’s only right he keeps the younger generation in line."

"Keeps in line?" Sophia sobbed, protesting, "Is this what you call keeping someone in line? What kind of elder beats someone like this?"

By now Timothy’s mouth was covered in blood, but he never once fought back.

First, since he came back from Westcliff Monastery that day, he’d been sick—still fighting pneumonia with a fever, too weak to defend himself.

Second, he actually thought he deserved it. On the way to the hospital, he’d already started regretting things. He was supposed to apologize to the Sinclair Family and beg Zoe for forgiveness, so how had he managed to screw it all up again? Zoe must hate him more than ever now!

At that moment, the ICU doors swung open and a doctor called from inside, "Family of Diana Caldwell!"

Julian Sinclair stopped hitting; the chaos instantly gave way to calm as everyone gathered around the doctor.

Timothy struggled to his feet and stumbled over.

After all, his grandparents had always treated him well—even if his grandmother wasn’t related by blood, in his heart, she was no different from his real one.

The doctor said, "The patient is in danger right now. These three days are critical. If she pulls through, she might get a reprieve. If not, you all—"

The doctor couldn’t bring himself to say "prepare for the worst," so he changed his wording: "Anyway, just be mentally prepared."

Julian’s fierce gaze landed on Sophia.

Sophia knew how badly she’d screwed up and slumped down on a bench in the hallway.

Never in her life had she wanted Diana Caldwell to live so much.

Byron Kendall heard the doctor’s words and, at his age, suddenly broke down weeping: "It’s all my fault! I did this to her! It’s all my fault!"

Julian didn’t have time for grief—he ordered Leo, "Alert every international expert in the lung cancer field. Whatever it takes."

"Yes, sir."

Leo went off to handle things immediately.

...

Meanwhile, I was sitting up with Madam Sinclair late into the night in the living room. Neither of us had gone to bed.

It was only tonight that I learned from her why Julian was helping Timothy with that lawsuit.

Madam Sinclair said earnestly, "Child, don’t blame Julian. The only reason he helped Timothy with that divorce case was to give his mother peace of mind so she could focus on her treatment. He had no other choice—his mother’s cancer was progressing so rapidly, the doctor said every day’s delay made things riskier. Julian was bargaining with the king of hell for his mother’s life. He only made that promise because he was desperate."

My nose stung and there was a painful pressure behind my eyes.

I thought of how Julian was shouldering the weight of saving his mother while also enduring my misunderstanding.

He must have felt horribly wronged too, right?

The clock in the living room showed it was past 1 AM, and still the phone didn’t ring.

Madam Sinclair sighed with worry, "Why is there still no news? I wonder how things are at the hospital."

I gripped my phone but didn’t have the courage to call him.

After all, if not for me, Julian could have quietly stayed with Grandma during her final days—their mother-son bond would be intact.

Instead, everything was so fraught right now.

But Madam Sinclair and I were so anxious, in the end we decided to call Leo Grant.

Leo’s voice came through the phone, heavy with gravity: "It’s not good. They’re still fighting in the ICU. President Sinclair hasn’t left her side."

My heart plunged to the bottom.

If Grandma couldn’t make it—would there forever be a life between me and Julian Sinclair?

Every time we drew close in the future, would he always remember that his mother ended up like this because of my existence?

I was afraid to dwell on it. I jumped up, grabbed my jacket and car keys, and said to Madam Sinclair, "Grandma, please rest. I’m going to the hospital."

"Now?" She rushed to stop me, worried. "It’s after one AM. And if Julian’s mother sees you—who knows what trouble she’ll make? I’m worried you’ll get hurt if you go."

"Don’t worry, I won’t let her see me."

I gently patted her hand, voice firm: "I just want to be there for Mr. Sinclair. I won’t cause any trouble."

So I drove straight to the hospital Leo had named.

The ICU corridor was quiet. Everywhere, families waited anxiously for news about their loved ones inside.

Among them, I picked out Julian Sinclair at a glance.

Clad in a black suit, he stood with his back to me outside the ICU door—his silhouette icy and forbidding, radiating a don’t-approach aura.

I hesitated there, all the words I’d rehearsed on the road suddenly stuck in my throat.

But the next second, as if sensing me, he turned around—his deep gaze locking right onto me.

"What are you doing here?"

He frowned, quickly striding over.

Though it was early spring, the night was bitterly cold. I was only wearing a thin knit jacket—my nose already red from the chill.

Without a word, he shrugged off his suit jacket and draped it over me. Familiar, faintly tobacco-scented warmth enveloped me instantly.

I said quietly, "I heard Grandma’s condition isn’t good. I... couldn’t sleep at home."

Julian was silent for a few seconds before nodding slowly, "Yeah. It’s not good."

But then he shifted, his expression serious as he looked at me: "But none of this is your fault. Don’t let it keep you up at night. Eat when you should, sleep when you should, understand?"

I froze, staring at him in disbelief.

I hadn’t even gotten a word of comfort out—he was the one reassuring me first.

Yet my guilt still churned inside.

What Madam Sinclair said earlier made me realize—Julian Sinclair was the kind to keep everything bottled up, shouldering it alone rather than burdening someone else.

So I gently took his icy hand, and said proactively, "I don’t want our relationship to pressure you. If you need me, I’ll stay by your side; if you feel I’m a burden, I’ll go. Whatever you decide, I’ll support you."

Julian gazed deeply at me—then suddenly pulled me into his arms, resting his chin atop my head, only murmuring two words, "Silly girl..."

Just then, heavy, slow footsteps echoed in the corridor.

I quickly stepped out of his arms.

Looking over, I saw Sophia Kendall helping Timothy Xavier, with a nurse in tow giving instructions about medications.

"This is for pain—take it when you hurt."

"This is for fever—if you have one, take this."

"And, make sure you rest. Don’t get into any more fights, okay?"

The nurse finished and walked away.

I hadn’t expected to see Timothy’s face battered, bruised, and streaked with dried blood—he looked truly wretched.

His eyes found me, and there was a thick, pained sadness in them.

He looked like he was the one betrayed, as if Julian and I had wronged him terribly.

Sophia spotted me—her gaze instantly turned venomous, wishing it could cut me to ribbons.

She turned to Timothy and said, "See? That’s the woman you climbed Westcliff Monastery step by step, kneeling and praying for! Her man beat you up, and she’s still clinging to him—hell, she’s probably coddling his sore fists!"

Timothy suddenly shook off Sophia’s hand, slumping onto a nearby bench, his voice hoarse, "If all you can do is stir things up, then just leave. All I care about now is Grandma making it through the ICU. We’ll talk about anything else later."

"That’s all you’ve got in you?" Sophia stamped her foot in anger. "We’re not even halfway through and you’ve already lost your fight?"

Timothy looked up at her, his tone exhausted, "Didn’t you always dislike Zoe Ellison? Now that she and I are splitting, shouldn’t you be happy? Or do you want me to drag her back here just to keep annoying you?"

Sophia’s face turned blue, then white.

But she was never the kind to swallow her anger. If her son wouldn’t speak for her, she’d do it herself.

She gave a laugh of fury, pointing at Julian: "Don’t forget, you’re supposed to be Timothy’s divorce lawyer! I’ve never seen a lawyer who cozies up to the opposing party like this! What—are you a traitor, with no professional ethics at all?"

With that reminder, Julian suddenly seemed to recall something sobering. He said coolly, "Guess I forgot to tell you—I won’t be representing your son anymore. Our agreement ends here. The penalty fee will be wired to you from the firm."

Sophia hadn’t expected Julian to just drop the case with a word.

Julian didn’t spare them another glance. Instead, he took my hand, walking us to the far end of the hallway to keep us far from that mother and son—obviously protecting me from further ugliness.

Looking at me, he softened, "Go back to work tomorrow."

"Tomorrow? Already?" I was stunned, looking at him confused. We’d barely gotten back to Veridia before things exploded at home and Grandma was on her deathbed. And now he wanted me to show up for work?

"Better to keep busy at work than stew at home."

Julian ruffled my hair, eyes gentle. "Either work, or coordinate with Vera Quincy about your show. Bottom line, stay busy. Don’t worry about the hospital—my mom is my responsibility, not yours."

I stared at him, my eyes stinging warmly.

All the guilt and anxiety I’d been feeling—his single sentence soothed them all. I felt warm all over, comforted deep inside.

So this is what it’s like to be cared for so thoughtfully and tenderly—so solid and real.

Before I left, he said, "Go home and get to sleep. Be at work on time tomorrow. If I find out you’re late, your bonus and attendance will both be docked!"

Before I could say a word, he had Leo Grant send me straight back to The Sinclair Estate.

...

The next morning, I told Madam Sinclair about my hospital visit and what Julian had said to me.

Madam Sinclair smiled. "I watched Julian grow up," she said. "He may be quite a bit older than you, but older men know how to look after people. Don’t you agree?"

I blushed and didn’t say a word.

But Madam Sinclair just kept beaming at me, so I quickly changed the subject, urging the two kids, "Hurry up or you’ll be late."

Doris and Sharon started eating faster.

Madam Sinclair said, "If you have work, go handle it. I’ll take these two to school the next few days—and sometimes Jenna will be at the kindergarten, keeping me company. There’s always a driver, I’ll be fine."

I hadn’t realized during my disappearance that Madam Sinclair had been taking the kids to school herself.

I said gratefully, "Thank you, Grandma. But now that I’m back, let me handle it. Doris can be a handful—I’d hate for you to get worn out trying to keep her in line."

Madam Sinclair burst out laughing. "Oh, Doris is such a talker—always knows just the right thing to say, my little ray of sunshine, always cheering me up!"

"See, Mom? Great-Grandma doesn’t get tired of me at all!" Doris said proudly. "Only you think I’m naughty. But Sharon never tells jokes and makes Great-Grandma laugh!"

Seeing how well Doris and Madam Sinclair got along, I felt a little more at ease.

...

That morning at work—

I’d just put down my bag when Victoria Monroe came over with a coffee, saying, "You’re finally back! That was one hell of a business trip—I thought you’d quit!"

I blinked. "Business trip?"

"Of course," Victoria nodded. "President Sinclair told HR you were away on a confidential assignment. So, how’d it go? Smooth?"

My hand paused on the mouse. Julian Sinclair looked so by-the-book, but he was pretty shameless using official business for personal reasons.

I forced an awkward smile. "It went well. No problems."

Victoria leaned closer, full of curiosity. "So, who did you interview? Must’ve been someone really important since it’s all hush-hush."

I exaggerated in a joking tone, "Didn’t they say it’s confidential? If it really is secret, are you going to make things hard for me as my boss?"

Victoria immediately rolled her eyes, tapping me lightly. "Who cares what you did! I’m just curious, OK? Forget it, I didn’t ask!"

Then, more seriously, she said, "On to business—Shaun Sinclair’s research project has made a breakthrough. They’ve let it be known: you’re the only one they’ll give an exclusive interview to."

I was thrilled. This was exactly the news I needed to hear.

I nodded immediately. "No problem, I’ll set up a time with his team."

After contacting Shaun Sinclair’s crew, I learned he was abroad on a lecture tour and wouldn’t be back until the end of the month.

But they let it slip that his new drug had seen a major breakthrough—the animal trials were already a success.

Excitement bubbled up inside—I realized if the next step, human clinical trials, worked as well, then my mother wouldn’t have to be under Timothy’s thumb any longer.

In the end, I scheduled an exclusive interview at his Aurelia lab for the end of the month.

...

The rest of the day I spent clearing out my backlog.

It was nearly dark when I finished my last article.

My phone rang—it was Vera Quincy.

"You free tonight? Let’s grab dinner!"

She sounded upbeat, not even waiting for my reply before continuing, "I have incredible news—gotta tell you in person!"

Vera and I rarely met alone—usually just for work on the show. We weren’t really close beyond being business partners.

But the way she sounded, she really had big news, so I agreed.

She picked a private restaurant. I packed up and headed straight there.

On the way, I called The Sinclair Family to let Madam Sinclair know I wouldn’t be home for dinner.

...

Half an hour later I arrived.

As soon as I walked into the private room, Vera swept over like a gust of wind and gave me a big hug.

Her voice was full of relief, "Babe, thank god you wouldn’t let us sign Serena Sawyer! Otherwise, I could never explain things to HQ right now!"

I was stunned by her hug. After sitting down, I asked, "What’s going on? What happened with Serena Sawyer?"

Vera was grinning from ear to ear, a bit mysterious: "After Raina Ainsworth got exposed, Maxine Hawthorne’s ’Marriage Heart’ took advantage and surged ahead, wrapping filming before us. But guess what—I just got an insider tip: the whole show was killed by the censors. Reason? Serena Sawyer’s a blacklisted celeb—they wouldn’t even let them apply for review!"

"That serious?"

I was a bit surprised.

There have been precedents of blacklisted celebs making comebacks. Even though Serena was publicly criticized, nothing truly damning came out. Why a total ban?

Julian Sinclair crossed my mind—could he have done something?

I just laughed. "She thought getting rid of Raina would make her queen bee. Now, it’s all come back to bite her—serves her right."

"Exactly!" Vera sounded vindicated. "Call it karma. Back when she pushed us out, she gave us no room at all. Now, she tried to cash in on Maxine Hawthorne’s fame and wound up pulling her down with her. Maxine must hate her for it—all her books turn to gold as movies. Plus, all the money Timothy invested is down the drain!"

After that, Vera called her company, snapping back to business: "Yes, post it later from some random account. Didn’t she brag all the time on X? Her fans are dying for the new show. Post it right after Raina’s scandal broke—let them know ’Marriage Heart’ got axed! Make it clear: it’s because Serena got officially blacklisted."

Listening to her, I really did feel a twinge of regret.

If I weren’t worried about pushing Timothy into a corner, I’d have loved to out him and Serena’s filth while I was at it!

But reason quickly won out. Right now I needed to focus on Shaun’s results—if there was really a new cure for Mom, I’d never again have to cover for those two.

After dinner with Vera, we stepped out of the restaurant—to run right into Timothy Xavier and a stranger walking side by side.

The stranger didn’t know us. He was babbling to Timothy, "President Xavier, there’s nothing I can do about Miss Sawyer’s situation. The censors are very firm—word is, someone powerful intervened. Did Miss Sawyer offend someone lately?"

As they spoke, Timothy’s eyes suddenly caught mine as we passed.

I knew he was devoted to Serena Sawyer, but I didn’t imagine that beaten and battered as he was, he’d still be out networking for her in person, even wearing a mask.

Truly, love makes you do anything.

I pretended not to see him, planning to leave with Vera.

But Timothy told his companion, "Just do your best. If it doesn’t work out, that’s fine. I have something else, I’ll go first."

Then he came straight toward us.

Vera looked worried. "Crap, do you think he knows I’m about to drop dirt on Serena? Is he here to pick a fight?"

I decided in a second, whispering, "You go first—but the story goes out tonight, no matter what!"

This time, I won’t give Serena Sawyer any more mercy!