Chapter 85
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Harry took a deep breath, forcing himself to temporarily suppress the overwhelming guilt he felt toward Camila.
He yanked open the desk drawer, and his heart sank. The drawer was packed with certificates, their bright reds and golds gleaming like a cruel reminder of everything he’d ignored. The sight left him speechless.
His hands trembled uncontrollably as he slowly reached out, carefully picking up the certificates one by one, flipping through them with painstaking care.
Years of schooling–elementary, middle, and high school–were represented in that drawer, a stack of achievements he’d mostly ignored. Each one silently showcased Camila’s brilliance and tireless effort.
She’d got awards for “Model Student,” “Outstanding Student,” “Excellent Class Leader,” “Academic Competition Winner,” and more each certificate carried significant weight, brimming with honor and accomplishment.
These certificates felt like sharp blades, cutting deep into his heart. Behind every single one was a story of Camila’s hard work and perseverance.
For twelve years, she was the perfect student, admired by teachers and classmates alike, the one everyone looked up to. But once she returned to the Jackson family, she was slapped with labels like scheming, malicious, troublemaker, and narrow- minded.
In her family’s eyes, she was even worse than those aimless punks lingering on the streets.
The longer Harry stared at the certificates, the more he felt like a complete idiot. He couldn’t believe he’d been so blind for all these years. He’d judged Camila through his own prejudices, never really understanding her.
Harry’s hands shook violently, the certificates rustling in his grip.
Unable to face the truth, he shoved the thick stack of certificates back into the drawer in a panic, his breathing growing heavier with each passing second.
It took him a long time to steady himself, his mind racing as he hesitated over whether to open the next drawer. Curiosity gnawed at him, and his hand hovered over the drawer again. Just as he was about to pull it open, his fingers froze mid–air. A strange mix of fear and curiosity churned in his chest, compelling him to slowly, cautiously open it.
When the Wasmore University acceptance letter came into view, its golden lettering and dignified emblem seemed to radiate a blinding light, leaving his mind utterly blank.
His pupils widened in shock, his eyes filled with disbelief. His mouth opened slightly, but no sound came out. “This… this can’t be real…” he murmured, his voice trembling uncontrollably.
Wasmore University was a dream school for many, the peak of academic success. Hundreds of thousands of candidates competed fiercely for a spot, but most failed. And yet Camila, the sister he’d misunderstood and hurt, had earned her place there.
His hand reached out uncontrollably towards the admission letter, as if he was touching an incomparably precious and fragile treasure. The moment his fingertips touched the paper, his whole body shook, as if hit by an electric current.
Memories flooded his mind–his distrust of Camila, his silence as the family judged her, the shock in her eyes when he accused her in court, and his indifference after she was sent to prison. Each memory was like a dagger, stabbing deep into
his heart.
Harry’s body trembled uncontrollably, his breaths sharp and ragged, like a drowning man fighting for air. His head spun wildly, his eyes reddened, and his vision blurred.
“I ruined her… I ruined her life with my own hands…” Harry murmured in agony. Tears streamed down his face, dripping
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onto the acceptance letter and smudging the ink.
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Regret and self–reproach were etched across his face. He slumped into the chair, utterly drained, his hollow gaze filled with despair, as if his entire world had collapsed in an instant.
He realized now that the harm he’d caused Camila ran far deeper than he’d ever imagined. The certificates and the acceptance letter were undeniable proof of his mistakes–evidence of a debt he could never repay.
Harry’s body swayed, his vision darkened, and he nearly collapsed. He gasped for air, clutching at the desk to steady himself, refusing to let his body give out.
After what felt like an eternity, the dizziness subsided slightly, and his emotions settled just enough for him to regain a fragile composure.
He raised a trembling hand, wiping the tears from his face. Just as he was about to gently place the acceptance letter back into the drawer, he caught a glimpse of a slightly worn diary tucked in the corner.
His hand froze in mid–air. He knew he should stop–his mind was screaming that whatever was inside would only make him feel worse. But curiosity was gnawing at him, relentless, fueled by a desperate need to understand Camila.
In the end, as if his hand had a will of its own, he reached out and picked up the diary.
When he opened the first page, a family photo came into view. In the photo, his parents sat in the center, smiling. His mother was holding Lucky, the dog they’d loved for eighteen years before he passed away due to old age.
When Lucky died, the entire family was consumed by grief. They even held a funeral for him, and the sorrow was so overwhelming that they never got another dog. Lucky’s room, however, remains untouched to this day, with all his favorite toys still carefully preserved.
Harry stood beside Arthur, while Agnes leaned against Belinda. The four of them looked so happy together. Yet Camila was placed in a spot away from him, isolated from the rest of the family.
His thoughts were instantly pulled back to the day the family photo was taken. It was a holiday in May. The weather was perfect, and the flowers in the garden were in full bloom. Agnes had suggested taking a family photo in the garden.
The four of them were already prepared when Agnes suddenly remembered Lucky hadn’t been brought over. She called out loudly for him.
It was Camila who carried Lucky over. She cautiously asked Harry, “Harry, what are you all doing?”
Harry replied dismissively that they were taking a family photo. Camila’s eyes lit up with excitement, thinking she would be included in the photo.
When it was time to take the picture, she eagerly stood close to him.
At the time, Harry had a rule–aside from Agnes, he wouldn’t let any woman get too close to him. Camila’s attempt to stand near him made him uncomfortable, and he instinctively pushed her away, completely oblivious to the disappointment and hurt in her eyes.
He still remembered how, after the photo was taken, Agnes suggested they take advantage of the holiday and go on a family trip.
Naturally, Harry and his parents agreed. They packed their bags immediately, and the four of them, along with Lucky, set off on their trip, only returning home late on the last day of the holiday.
That night, the family had their first–ever argument with Camila. She had simply asked, “Why didn’t you take me on the trip?”
Already exhausted from the trip, Harry was enraged by her questioning expression and snapped, “You’re not even part of
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the Jackson family. Why would we take you?”
Even a dog could be placed at the center of the family photo, while his own sister was positioned away from them.
Even a dog had its own room, which was cleaned daily by a housekeeper and filled with Lucky’s favorite items. Yet his sister had to live in a dark, damp storage room, furnished with only a few worn–out pieces of furniture.
Even a dog could join them on family trips, while his sister was left behind at home.
They spent thousands a month on Lucky–grooming, pest control, premium food, supplements–always giving him the best. Meanwhile, his sister got nothing. She paid for her school tuition through part–time jobs and scholarships.
These scenes played out in his mind like a slideshow, each memory cutting deeper into his heart. Harry felt as if a sharp blade had pierced his stomach, and he coughed up blood onto the desk.
He realized that unbearable pain and shock could really make someone cough up blood. The agony felt like a knife slicing through him.
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