CHAPTER 76: CHAPTER 76: ZOE, COME HELP ME TAKE A BATH

I stopped in my tracks, finally seeing a glimmer of hope ahead, and said, "Actually, I’m already married. My husband is Timothy Xavier, the CEO of Xavier Group."

Julian Sinclair’s handsome face didn’t show any surprise at all; he lifted his chin slightly, signaling me to continue.

I gave a concise account of how Timothy Xavier deceived me, how he let my daughter be raised by his mistress, and the whole messy story from start to finish.

"I’ve heard you have an extremely sophisticated detective system—able to uncover all sorts of secrets. I... I want to know if Doris is really my daughter. I need proof."

After saying all that, I watched him nervously, my heart pounding in my chest.

Julian Sinclair listened quietly, his gaze unreadable, then spoke coolly: "Sorry, Miss Ellison. This sort of family drama isn’t really my concern."

His words were like a bucket of ice water dumped over my head, instantly putting out the last of my hope.

I’d already guessed I might be rejected, but hearing it for real still left my chest feeling blocked and painfully tight.

I forced the kind of smile that looks worse than tears: "I understand. Sorry to bother you."

No point in saying more; I turned around and walked toward the villa, step by step.

The moonlight stretched my shadow long—like a heavy chain dragging on the ground, trapping me, day after day, in this marriage no one could untangle.

When I got back inside, Madam Sinclair smiled at me and asked, "You two were out walking pretty long tonight. What did you talk about?"

"Madam, actually, I’m already marri—"

I wanted to clear things up with Madam Sinclair right now, so Julian could stop doubting me later.

But before I finished, Julian Sinclair walked in from outside and said, "Grandma, it’s late—let me give Miss Ellison a ride home."

Madam Sinclair got so distracted she didn’t press me to finish, just nodded to Julian approvingly: "That’s right! Every time I have to remind you. Nice that you took the initiative this time."

I felt so stifled, and for some reason, I really wanted Madam Sinclair to know I’m a married woman today.

But as soon as I tried again, Julian was already beside me. "Let’s go, Miss Ellison."

His tone got lower, leaving no room for discussion.

So that was it—I said goodbye to Madam Sinclair and left the Sinclair Family with Julian.

As soon as we got outside, he asked, "What were you about to say?"

I paused, realizing: "Weren’t you bothered by your grandma wanting to matchmake us? I was just trying to explain that clearly to her."

"No need."

Julian said flatly, "It won’t happen anyway. If it makes Grandma happy, humoring her isn’t bad."

I bit back a retort: You’re the one stopping me from explaining. Don’t accuse me later of having any designs on you!

I may be married, but I’m only twenty-five. I’m not about to fall for a guy almost ten years older.

"Attorney Sinclair, you can go back. I drove myself today—you don’t need to give me a ride."

I said goodbye, making sure to keep my distance, and drove away from the Sinclair Family.

By the time I got back to the hospital, it was after ten.

Timothy Xavier hadn’t gone to bed or started working, just sat there on the couch, gloomy, rolling Buddha Beads in his hand.

I peeked inside, but didn’t see Doris anywhere. Instantly, I felt a little disappointed.

Serena must be feeling threatened now, so she wouldn’t dare let Doris come anymore.

I didn’t pay much attention to Timothy’s sulking; all I could think about was how to see my daughter more often.

Then Timothy’s cold voice cut through: "Give me a bath."

I snapped out of it, thinking I’d misheard: "What?"

"Doctor said I can’t bathe by myself. Need help." He gave me a frosty look. "What, play around out there until you forget real business at home?"

To him, waiting on him was ’real business’.

But to me, the only thing that mattered was getting custody back and getting away from him!

Seeing me unmoved, his tone grew even heavier, "Zoe Ellison, get me water—I need a bath!"

I clenched my hands, forcing down the revulsion boiling inside me.

He didn’t really want my help with bathing at all.

This was just his way of punishing me for coming home late, refusing to accept that he’s no longer the center of my universe—just looking for ways to humiliate me.

"Timothy Xavier, we’re getting divorced soon."

I looked him straight in those cold, calculating eyes, reminding him word by word: "I can just call Serena Sawyer right now—bet she’d be thrilled to help you with this."

Timothy’s eyes went icy sharp. "No, I want you to do it."

"I can hire a nurse. I’ll pay for it."

I knew if I caved this time, I’d be caving forever. I was done backing down!

Timothy stared at me for a few seconds, then suddenly let out a low, chilly laugh: "Zoe Ellison, you’re getting real gutsy."

He sat up straight, then turned for the bathroom, his back radiating menace.

I breathed out, about to call the nurse, when I heard him say, "Forget it, I’ll do it myself!"

Soon, the sound of running water came from the bathroom.

I didn’t dwell on it, just returned to the living room, my mind full of nothing but my daughter.

...

The next day, Timothy—who usually gets up before seven—still hadn’t woken.

I’d already washed up and wanted to ask what he wanted for breakfast, but found his face had an odd flush, and he was breathing heavier than usual.

I reached over to check his forehead; the burning heat made my heart skip. I rushed to call the doctor.

When I came back in with the doctor, I hadn’t expected Sophia Kendall to arrive too.

The doctor undid Timothy’s chest bandage, frowning: "The wound’s infected. Has he gotten it wet lately?"

I remembered him stubbornly bathing alone last night. He kind of deserved it, but it was a little bit my fault too.

Sophia’s eyes drilled into me, her voice harsh: "He’s asking you a question!"

"Yes."

I answered, telling the doctor, "He bathed last night."

Sophia snapped, "Didn’t the doctor say no bathing? You bitch! I just knew you would end up ruining Timothy!"

Just then, Timothy, lying on the bed, slowly opened his eyes—hand on his forehead—and said gruffly, "Mom, it’s not her fault. I insisted on bathing."

Sophia’s expression froze instantly; she tried to recover, "Still, she didn’t take proper care! If you had to bathe, she should’ve avoided the wound and washed you carefully. How could you let water touch it?"

"I wouldn’t let her help."

Timothy’s voice was quiet.

Sophia clearly hadn’t expected this from her son.

She opened her mouth, wanting to say something, but in the end just glared fiercely at me and said to Timothy: "I’ve already told Serena. She’ll bring Doris to see you soon."

Truth is, I hadn’t expected Timothy to clear me of blame.

The thought that I’d see my daughter soon made a hazy hope spark inside me.

Timothy then told Sophia he needed rest and sent her away.

Once the door closed, Timothy’s cold gaze landed on me, voice low but sharp: "Come here."

I thought he needed something and walked slowly to his bed.

The next second, his cool fingers gripped the back of my neck.

The pressure wasn’t strong, but it carried a control I couldn’t escape; he gently pulled, so I leaned toward him.

His cold lips were almost touching my earlobe.

I shivered all over; it felt electric, and I instinctively pushed him away.

I must have pressed on his wound by accident, because he hissed softly in pain.

I snapped, "Don’t think just because you defended me with your mom, you can do whatever you want to me."

"Just wanted to tell you my wound’s infected. Looks like my discharge will be delayed a week or two. So... you’ll have to put up with me a while longer."

There was a sly glint in his eyes—he seemed sure I was a cat who couldn’t escape his hand.

I nodded, saying, "Hope you keep your promise and give Ethan Xavier a letter of forgiveness when you’re discharged—let him go."

Timothy’s face turned ugly, and he looked at me with a chilling glare: "Well, that depends on how you behave."

Then the door opened again.

Serena led Doris in.

Seeing my daughter, a rush of tenderness and excitement filled me.

Only Doris didn’t look at me—she ran to Timothy’s bed instead. "Daddy, Mama said you have a fever. Are you in pain? Boo-hoo-hoo..."

"As long as I see you, it doesn’t hurt anymore."

Timothy’s face softened instantly when talking to his daughter.

Serena walked over to me, her eyes full of challenge: "Miss Ellison, thank you for all your help. From now on, I’ll take care of Timothy myself. Otherwise, I just can’t relax."

I’d been fretting about how to ditch this mess. Who knew someone would volunteer!

But before I could speak up, Timothy interrupted from the bed: "You’re always busy—barely have time to breathe. How could you take care of me?"

Then he turned to me, voice tinged with sarcasm: "Zoe Ellison’s not like you. She’s got nothing going on, plenty of time to burn sitting here."

His words were a soft jab, not hard but unmistakable.

I knew he was belittling me on purpose in front of Serena.

Serena’s smile stiffened for a moment, then she recovered, even faking a sigh: "True, Miss Ellison definitely has more free time than I do. I’m prepping a new show lately—after that, I’ll be even busier."

I wondered if her ’new show’ was actually based on my novel.

As I was thinking, Timothy asked her, "Did they agree yet?"

Serena sounded confident: "That writer is stubborn as hell, not easy to convince. They said there’d be a public audition to pick the lead actress. But I found a top professor at Aurelia Film Academy—she’s coaching me personally, so I’m sure I’ll nail it."

I gave a cold laugh inside—guess we’ll see at the audition next week how well you’ve learned, Serena.

After chatting, Doris finally remembered me.

"Auntie Ellison, the cookies yesterday—my classmates loved them!"

She smiled sweetly, never knowing the batch we made together already ended up in Serena’s trash.

The ones she shared with classmates were from a new batch I made later.

But none of that mattered. What mattered was my daughter was recognized by her classmates.

I smiled a little, asking, "Did you feel happy, Doris?"

"I did!" Doris nodded, her face beaming.

My heart warmed, and I was about to say I’d make them with her again next time.

Plus, I might get a chance to collect Doris’s hair.

But right then, Serena piped up, "Miss Ellison, you’re so good at baking. Doris loves it—why not teach me? Then I can make them for her too, and not keep bothering you."

Her motive was all too obvious—just another way to keep me from spending time with Doris.

I hadn’t answered yet, but Doris was already looking up at me, her eyes full of hope: "Auntie Ellison, teach Mommy too! Then she can make cakes as yummy as yours!"

Her sparkling eyes glimmered with dependence on Serena, and that word "Mommy" jabbed at my heart like a needle—fine, light, but relentless.

I swallowed back my feelings. "Sorry, I’m not much of a teacher."

Serena’s smile faded a bit, turning ’hurt’ as she looked at Doris: "Guess Mommy’s just too silly, so Auntie Ellison won’t teach me."

"Auntie Ellison!"

Doris frowned, let go of my sleeve, and ran to Serena, hugging her leg tight.

She looked up, her eyes showing a hint of reproach, "You can teach people—you taught me great! Why not teach Mommy?"

My throat tightened; I couldn’t speak.

Just then, Timothy finally spoke, voice chilly: "It’s just baking a cake, Zoe Ellison. What’s the big deal in teaching Serena?"

I answered coldly, "I said I’m not good at teaching. Tons of bakers out there—she can learn from anyone she wants."

Still, Doris got upset, shouting at me: "Why do you always bully Mommy? I don’t like you anymore! Mommy, let’s go!"

Her words were like a heavy hammer, smacking me straight in the chest, making it hard to breathe.

I didn’t know what to say as Doris dragged Serena away angrily.

The mood in the room froze. Timothy shook his head slightly, seemingly dissatisfied with my ’stinginess’.

...

Days went by, but Doris never came back.

Timothy’s fever was gone, and his wound was healing well enough.

And today was the audition for the lead actress at Veridia Film Studios.

I made up some excuse—told Timothy I was going out shopping with Jenna Sutton—just to slip out under his nose.

At my request, the organizers set up a curtain for me; I didn’t show my face, just watched each actress’s audition from behind the screen.

As expected, Serena came too.

Even after getting slammed by Aurelia’s official account and losing plenty of sponsors, her popularity was so high she was still arrogant as hell.

Watching through the monitors, I saw when Raina Ainsworth was auditioning, Serena’s face was full of contempt and sarcasm.

To be fair, Raina looked more like the female lead I had in my novel—she captured her strength and vulnerability.

But I was pretty curious about Serena’s performance.

She kept saying lately she was honing her acting skills.

On X, she was always posting about ’studying scripts past midnight’, racking up praise from her brain-dead fans.

After Raina finished, it was Serena’s turn.

Her scene was the female lead discovering the male lead’s betrayal.

I watched her on the monitor, all surface acting—honestly, she was better at pretending in front of Timothy.

God knows what all those lessons with the ’gold-star professor’ at Aurelia Film Academy led to.

This audition was at least fair—the director and producer both felt Raina best fit the book’s heroine.

I had no objections at all.

But after finding out Raina got the lead role, Serena had her manager try to negotiate.

She was desperate to claw back her fame.

Since she couldn’t get the lead, Serena asked her agent if she could audition for the second female lead.

The director and producer hesitated, asking for my opinion.

"Sure, no problem."

I smiled—the second lead is basically Serena in real life, isn’t she?

But I added a condition: "Let Raina play opposite her during the audition."

And the scene I chose? The heroine’s mother dies because of the mistress, so the heroine slaps the mistress hard—over and over.

Thinking back on how hard Raina and Serena have fought in the entertainment industry, I doubted Raina would be gentle.