Chapter 1
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The prison gate slowly creaked open, and the harsh sunlight fell on Camila Jackson’s gaunt, yellowed face.
The clothes she had worn when she entered prison now hung loosely on her frame. She had spent five dark, hopeless years behind bars, and today, she was finally walking out–her sentence served.
Dragging her leg, she limped slowly from the prison. It wasn’t that she wanted to walk slowly, but that she simply couldn’t manage any faster.
A black Bentley was parked by the roadside. The window rolled down, revealing a man’s cold, sharp face. His eyes briefly scanned her leg before he scoffed, his disdam unmistakable. Five years in prison, and you’re still pretending.”
Camila’s heart unexpectedly gave a painful twist, and her eyes burned. He was Harry Jackson, her older brother.
Since she was fifteen and had been taken in by the Jackson family from the orphanage, she had tried everything to earn his
affection.
But for the sake of his adopted sister Agnes Jackson–who shared no blood with him–he had fabricated evidence to pin a charge of attempted murder on her.
Five years later, he was still as sharp–tongued as ever, still as cold and dismissive toward her. Camila forced herself to push down the pain, pretending not to see him as she limped away,
Harry froze, thinking, ‘She has actually ignored me. In his memory, Camila would always be the one to approach him first, eager to please him in any way she could.
When he came home, she would offer him his slippers. When he was tired, she’d give him a shoulder rub. When he had trouble sleeping, she’d brew him soup to help him relax.
If he was too busy to come home for dinner, she’d wait for him, rain or shine, with a thermos at the office building.
In the three years she lived with them, his chronic stormach issues had gotten better. But ever since she went to prison, he had often woken up in pain during the night.
When he found out she was being released today, he felt an unexpected sense of relief and even canceled a multinational meeting just to pick her up.
He thought she’d be thrilled to see him, ready to tell him everything she’d suffered over the years. He never imagined she would completely ignore him, her once adoring gaze replaced with cold indifference.
The strange emptiness that grew in his chest only fueled his frustration. He gripped the steering wheel so tightly that his knuckles went white. His voice came out sharper than he intended. “Get in the car
Immediately, he regretted his words. Frowning, he softened his tone. “Mom and Dad know you’re out today. They’ve arranged a welcome dinner for you”
Camila thought, ‘Mom and Dad? The words felt so familiar, yet so distant. When she was at the orphanage, she’d often imagined what it would be like to have parents–she dreamed of being a pampered little princess.
She had longed for that for fifteen years. And after all those years, her wish had finally come true. She had a mom and dad now, and a tall, handsome older brother who was a powerful CEO.
But that beloved little princess wasn’t her–it was their adopted daughter, Agnes, whom they had raised since childhood Those people weren’t her parents. They were Harry’s and Agnes’s parents.
Camila couldn’t help but bitterly laugh at herself. During the three years she spent in that house, she had suffered through countless slights and cold treatment. Knowing she was unwanted, she thought, Why would I go back to face more misery?”
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Her steps, though shows, never waverest. Her cold attitude and the stubbornness in her back were like a sharp thorn in Harry’s
sale
A sange of anger welled up my his chest as he slammed the car door open, quickly catching up to her with long strides. Grabbing her wrist, he yanked her toward him, his voice dripping with frustration. “Haven’t you caused enough trouble?
Camla lost her balance and crashes heavily to the ground. A sharp, searing pain shot through her broken leg, and her face
went ashen
Harry’s anger flared. “Enjoy playing the fragile act, don’t you?
Don’t forget, five years ago it was you who pushed Emily down the stairs, turning her into a vegetable. You even tried to frame Agies for it. Alter five years in prison, you still haven’t learned your lesson, Seems like the system hasn’t done its job?”
With that, he roughly pulled Camila up from the ground, showing no pity. “Don’t think that five years in prison means you’ve paid for your sins. As long as Emily is unconscious, you’ll never be free of guilt.
“And you still owe Agnes an apology. Get in the car. Don’t make me say it again.
Camila could only feel bitter irony at his words. She had explained countless times that it wasn’t her who pushed Emily Connor—it was Agnes. But no one believed her. They all chose to stand by Agnes.
She was the real, blood–related daughter of the Jackson family, yet the entire family believed Agnes’s side of the story.
Yes, she was guilty–but her crime was foolishly trying to return to that family, hoping for love and affection that wasn’t hers to begin with. She knew she was wrong. She thought, I would change!
She walked away, far from them, determined never to compete for her parents‘ or Harry’s affection again. She would never be an eyesore to them again. She wondered. “Why can’t Harry accept that?
She silently broke free from his grasp, stepping back to put some distance between them.
Her deliberate coldness only made Harry more frustrated, his chest tightening with anger. All he could think about was how she used to cling to him like a shadow, always seeking his approval.
He tried to rein in his anger, softening his tone as much as he could. “Come home with me.
Camila kept her eyes lowered, her expression blank, as if she couldn’t care less to look at him.
Her feigned undifference only made Harry’s fury burn brighter. He thought. Five years in prison haven’t taught her much. but it has certainly made her more defiant.
Just as he was about to snap, a voice, soft as a spring breeze, interrupted his thoughts. “Camila:”
Camila froze. In that instant, her heart tightened painfully.
Even though it had been five years since she last heard that voice, she recognized it instantly. It belonged to her childhood friend, Owen Wilson.
She looked up to see a pair of polished leather shoes, and then heard his deep, soothing voice from above. “Camila, congratulations on your release.”
If anyone else had said it, she would have politely thanked them. But hearing it from Owen made it sound almost mocking.
Her most trusted childhood friend, Owen–the renowned lawyer who, after graduation, took on his first case as the defense attorney for Agnes and helped convict her.
Before the trial, he had said to her, “Camila, Agnes has never been through hardship. She won’t be able to handle life in prison. Will you take the fall for her?”
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Camila had thought. Agnes can’t handle it, but I can! Just because I am used to suffering, it is my responsibility to bear the blame for Agnes’s crime
By sending Camila to prison, he became famous in Sancho. Five years ago, he had just graduated, still a little green. Now, Eve years later, he was one of Sancho’s most respected lawyers, exuding confidence and professionalism.
They had grown up together in the orphanage. Not siblings by blood, but closer than siblings. Whenever other kids bullied her, he would stand up for her, bercely promising. “As long as I’m here, no one will make you suffer, Camila.”
He had even promised that when he became a lawyer, anyone who hurt her would end up in jail.
But later, when Agnes hurt her again and again, Owen simply dismissed her, saying, “Camila, you’re just being too sensitive. Ames isn’t like that.”
And it was him who had protected those who hurt her and sent her to prison.
The air was thick with silence.
The smile on Owen’s face faltered, but he forced a smile and extended his hand to Camila. “Camila, I am here to pick you up…”
Before he could finish his sentence, Camila turned to Harry. “You said we’re going home, right? Let’s go.”
AD
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