Chapter 142: Chapter 142: The Scales of the Heart Have Tilted
Sean Sinclair turned and caught up to Claire Rhodes, demanding she make herself clear.
Claire Rhodes felt she had already made herself perfectly clear.
Since the scumbag couldn’t understand plain English, she didn’t mind repeating herself.
"President Sinclair, you’re cheating on her with another woman while signing her up for yoga, parenting, child nutrition, and child psychology classes. Trying to have it both ways like that is just..." she said, a look of disgust on her face.
"So, she’s decided not to try for a baby. It’s only natural she’d transfer the classes to someone else, right? What, was she supposed to have a kid just for you to control?"
"I’m the one taking all the classes. She didn’t tell you because her love for you is well and truly dead."
Loud, bitter fights mean there’s still a chance to save things. A silent withdrawal is final.
Claire Rhodes watched the shifting expressions on Sean Sinclair’s face and continued, "I read that article about her. I don’t know what others think, but I feel you’re not worthy of her, President Sinclair. You started from completely different places in life, but now at twenty-eight, her future is much brighter than yours. You’re simply not in her league."
"You were only able to marry her and win her love because you took advantage of her being an orphan who desperately wanted a family. Your arrival just happened to fill a void in her life."
"She must have tried so hard to salvage this marriage, to keep her world whole. But it’s a shame. A broken vase still shows its cracks even after being glued back together. And when something’s been dirtied, even if you scrub it clean, every time you look at it, you’ll remember it was once soaked in shit. Each time you remember, you have to mentally scrub it clean all over again. It’s torture."
She was comparing him to something that had been soaked in shit.
Sean Sinclair seethed with humiliation and fury.
Claire Rhodes didn’t give him a chance to speak. She just smiled faintly and said, "I should actually be thanking you, President Sinclair. I could never have afforded classes worth tens of thousands on my own. And frankly, I wouldn’t have been able to articulate all of that before."
"Learning about Piaget’s four stages and Erikson’s eight stages was so enlightening. It turns out they don’t just apply to children—they’re relevant to a person’s entire life."
She wore a look of profound enlightenment.
With that, she turned and walked away.
Sean Sinclair stood frozen to the spot. ’Her love is well and truly dead? What does that even mean?’
’How could that be...’
’How is that even possible?’
’Before all this, Leila was always so compliant. She never overthought things, never suspected anything.’
’He hadn’t noticed a single thing amiss.’
Sean Sinclair stood clutching the roses, his thoughts a tangled mess as the cold autumn wind whipped against his face, stinging like a knife.
He took out his phone and dialed Charles Jordan’s number.
"Find out if there are any properties for sale in Norsen. Contact the owner or the agent. I need to get inside Norsen today, posing as a prospective buyer."
He had to see Leila Jennings.
If outsiders and unfamiliar vehicles couldn’t get into Norsen, then he would create an opportunity for himself.
He had to see Leila Jennings today, no matter what.
’If Leila could hide one thing from him, she could hide a second.’
’If they didn’t sit down and have a serious talk soon, this marriage was really going to end.’
Sean Sinclair sat in his car, his head throbbing.
Message after message popped up on his phone.
They were from Sarah Lynch.
Sarah Lynch was informing him that Julian Grant had invited her to a party with his friends that evening.
’She can go wherever she wants. What’s the point in telling me?’
’He had bigger things to worry about.’
He let the screen go dark. While he waited for a message from Charles Jordan, Sean Sinclair swiped away every new notification from Sarah Lynch the moment it appeared.
He would rather drum his fingers anxiously on the steering wheel than tap the keyboard on his phone to send Sarah Lynch a single reply.
The scales of his heart had long since tipped, unseen, toward the one he truly cared about.
Not far away, Sarah Lynch stared at her unanswered messages. Furious, she slammed her palm on the steering wheel, causing the horn to blare shrilly.
Sean Sinclair never used to ignore her messages. If he was busy, he would always tell her he’d reply later. Then, once he was free, he would answer each one, never missing a single message.
This time, she had deliberately told him she was going to a party with Julian Grant, and still, Sean Sinclair had completely ignored her.
Not long ago, she had pretended she was going to take another man to a gala, and Sean had gotten angry and told her she wasn’t allowed.
’Sean Sinclair doesn’t care about me anymore.’
She refused to believe it.
Tonight, when she was out with Julian Grant, she would post plenty of photos online to get a rise out of him.
You just had to keep prodding a man’s ego to give him a sense of crisis.
...
Nathaniel Cole was in front of the mirror, choosing a tie, when he got a call from Caine.
"Speak."
"President Sinclair of Stellaxis Technologies wants to rent Villa 11 in Norsen."
Of the twenty villas in Norsen, the Cole family had kept three, all registered under Nathaniel Cole’s name. Nathaniel chose to live in the prize villa, No. 1, leaving the other two vacant.
While organizing her boss’s assets, Caine had once remarked that he owned too many properties. Rather than letting them sit empty, it was better to rent them out—after all, every little bit helps.
Nathaniel Cole had told her to handle it as she saw fit, so she had listed one empty property in each area for rent.
The one she listed in Norsen was Villa 11.
Normally, a trivial matter like a rental inquiry wouldn’t require President Cole’s attention. The problem was, the name on the application form was Charles Jordan.
Charles Jordan was Sean Sinclair’s assistant.
The rent for Villa 11 in Norsen was not cheap. As a fellow salaried employee, there was no way Charles Jordan could afford it. He was clearly acting on his boss’s behalf.
Assistants and secretaries like them usually handled matters that were inconvenient for their bosses to deal with personally.
And since this involved President Sinclair of Stellaxis Technologies, she had to report it to President Cole.
The moment Nathaniel Cole heard the name Sean Sinclair, he knew exactly what this was about.
’He’s here for Leila Jennings.’
Caine added, "And he’s in a hurry. He wants to see the house today."
Nathaniel Cole had already selected a tie.
’Dark red shirt, black tie.’
"Let him come."
"Understood, President Cole."
After Caine hung up, Nathaniel used his voice assistant to call Cherry Cole.
"What do you want?" his sister’s impatient voice came through the phone.
Nathaniel Cole said casually, "It’s time for you to leave with Leila Jennings."
"It’s only four o’clock! The victory party doesn’t start until six-thirty."
"Stop complaining." Nathaniel Cole’s gaze swept over the watches in the glass display case. "I’ll outfit your lab with all new equipment."
"Early? Who said it was early? It’s not early at all! Bye, big bro!"
Listening to his sister’s sycophantic tone, Nathaniel Cole let out a silent chuckle and put on his watch.
Sean Sinclair and Charles Jordan entered Norsen without issue and pulled up to Villa 11. Sean instructed Charles, "Go park the car."
Charles Jordan understood immediately. After parking the car, he started to wander around Norsen, his eyes scanning everywhere, trying to pinpoint which villa President Sinclair’s wife might be staying in.
Sean Sinclair stood at the entrance of Villa 11 for a full half hour, long enough for his calves to begin to ache.
The homeowner was nowhere to be seen.
’But to find Leila Jennings, he could endure it.’
Another ten minutes passed before someone finally approached.
It was Nathaniel Cole and Miss Moss.
Miss Moss finally got to see Miss Jennings’s ex-husband, and she sized him up and down as if he were a monkey at the zoo.
Her gaze made Sean Sinclair uncomfortable.
What made him even more uncomfortable was that the homeowner was Nathaniel Cole!
’How could it be such a coincidence?’
Miss Moss stepped forward. "Is this the gentleman who wants to rent the house? The young master’s property rents for four million a year. Three-year minimum lease, paid annually."
"Can President Sinclair afford it?" Nathaniel Cole’s opening remark was a devastating blow. "Maybe if you ask Ms. Lynch to pay you back, you’ll be able to afford it."
