Chapter 50 It’s Her
Giovani looked at the dazed Cemile in his arms and was surprised to realize–she was the same girl who had asked him for
cigarette in the hospitel stairwell a few days ago.
Back then, she had been thin and forlorn, sitting on the steps like an abandoned little creature, cigarette in hand, eyes filled with despair
Now, she was utterly different.
Camila’s checks were flushed, her eyes tightly shut, long lashes trembling uncontrollably. Strands of damp hair clung to her smooth forehead, soaked with sweat. Her lips were slightly parted, hot breaths escaping in soft, unconscious whimpers Her small hands, as if beyond her own control, fumbled recklessly across his chest. With a sharp tearing sound, she ripped open his shirt collar
In an instant, e firm, well defined chest was exposed under the night sky, his skin exuding a dangerously seductive sheen
Standing nearby, Turner’s eyes widened, his jaw nearly hitting the floor.
He cursed inwardly, thinking, Mr. Campbell–the legendary untouchable, cold as ice, immune to women–who would’ve guessed he had such a wild side in private?
Thinking about how Giovani’s mother constantly fretted over his marriage, how eighty–year–old Lindsey had even turned gray with worry–wasn’t this scene just the perfect ‘surprise‘?
With a sneaky grin, Turner whipped out his phone and, before anyone could stop him, snapped a photo of the tantalizing moment. His fingers moved swiftly, sending it off to Mrs. Campbell.
Imagining her reaction–probably grinning from ear to ear–Turner couldn’t help but smirk.
But just as he was basking in his own amusement, Giovani moved with sharp precision. His hand struck the back of Camila s slender neck in a clean, decisive motion.
The next second, the restless girl in his arms went limp, her entire body collapsing into him, motionless.
Turner’s excitement vanished instantly.
Wait, wait, wait–this is all wrong! he thought, baffled.
“Shouldn’t this be the part where the domineering CEO sweeps the fragile heroine into his arms, kicks open the car door, gently places her onto the leather seats, then looms over her in the spacious backseat… and, well, you know–progresses naturally? That’s how it’s supposed to go in CEO romance novels! Why is Mr. Campbell going completely off–script?” he murmured.
Turner blinked in disbelief, only to be met with Giovani’s icy gaze. “Have you seen enough?” Giovani’s voice was laced with
warning.
Turner snapped back to reality, awkwardly scratching his head. He was about to report on the Eastville land deal, but as his eyes swept over Camila’s face, a spark of recognition flashed across his expression.
“Wait… it’s her?!” he blurted out.
Giovani arched an eyebrow. “You know her?”
“Yeah, she’s the lady who embroidered the rose on your suit.”
Giovani’s gaze darkened slightly. His eyes returned to Camila’s sleeping face, thoughts swirling.
The Eastville project was crucial for his business expansion in Sancho. The suit he had worn tonight was custom–made specifically for events like the auction.
However, a mysterious burn mark had ruined the suit–not just an accident, he suspected, but likely sabotage from one of the rival families competing against him.
Repairing high–end bespoke suits was an intricate and challenging task, one few could handle. He hadn’t held much hope.
Yet, the embroidered rose on the suit had completely surprised him.
The stitchwork felt oddly familiar–very much like “Eternal Grace,” the embroidery he had purchased for ten million dollars at an auction a year ago. He had bought it as a birthday gift for his grandmother, Lindsey.
Lindsey adored embroidery, but she had cherished “Eternal Grace” above all. Giovani had even tried to acquire me from the same artist, only to be told that only t
“Eternal Grace” was one of them.
Successfully unlocked!
The other was “Majestic Bloom“-an even more refined work, though unfinished. Just as it neared completion, the arust had suddenly stopped working on it a month ago.
He had assumed the embroiderer had passed away–what else could explain abandoning such a masterpiece?
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Chapter 50 ## Mer
“Mr. Campbell? Turner called out to him
Giovani snapped out of his thoughts. His gaze shifted between the rose on his chest and the girl in his arms.
If her embroidery skills were truly exceptional, then perhaps… she could finish ‘Majestic Bloom for Lindsey’s upcoming birthday.
Carrying Camila, he sensed something off–her body temperature was too high, her breath uneven. Someone had drugged her. His expression darkened. “To the hospital.”
When Camila opened her eyes again, she was in a hospital bed
The unbearable heat in her body had finally faded, and her mind was clear
Memories of the banquet flashed through her mind–Agnes‘ vicious face, her malicious schemes. Hatred boiled in Camila’s chest.
She threw off the blanket, got out of bed, and left the hospital.
By the time Turner returned with hospital admission paperwork and supplies, the bed was empty.
Half an hour later, Camila arrived at the Jackson family estate.
The moment she stepped inside, before she could even steady herself, a thunderous voice crashed down on her. “How dare you come back, you ungrateful wretch!”
Before she could react, a coffee cup came hurtling toward her.
Her eyes sharpened, and she dodged. The cup shattered against the floor, shards scattering everywhere.
Arthur’s face twisted in rage. “You dare dodge? I’ll beat the disrespect out of you!”
Agnes, ever the scheming actress, put on a pitiful expression. “Dad, please calm down. I’m sure Camila didn’t mean it.”
Arthur’s fury only intensified. “Didn’t mean it? She shoved you at the banquet, humiliated you in front of everyone! She did it on purpose–out of pure jealousy! She wants to ruin you and disgrace the Jackson family! Camila, kneel!” Camila’s lips curled into a cold smile as she stared at Arthur and Agnes, watching them put on their usual performance. She stood tall, spine straight, her eyes burning like fire. Her voice was cold, emotionless. “Why should I kneel? Agnes drugged me at the banquet, tried to destroy me, and you’re blaming me instead of questioning her?”
Tears welled up in Agnes‘ eyes as she choked out, “Camila, I can forgive you for pushing me, but how can you slander me like this?”
Arthur roared, “Enough lies! Agnes is kind and well–mannered–she would never stoop to such despicable tricks! Apologize now, or I’ll teach you some discipline myself!”
Belinda hesitated for a brief moment but still followed Arthur’s lead. “Camila, just apologize. We’re family–don’t make things worse.”
Harry frowned. “Camila, you went too far today. Apologize to Agnes.”
Camila looked at these familiar yet distant faces, her hatred erupting like a volcano.
Years of oppression, humiliation, and pain came rushing out, uncontrollable.
Her eyes turned bloodshot, filled with madness.
“You all take her side. You all push me to the edge. Fine!”
Like a wild beast, she lunged forward, grabbing the ashtray from the coffee table.
She pinned Agnes down. And smashed it down onto her head.
Agnes let out a bloodcurdling scream, terror filling her eyes.
Camila’s hatred consumed her. Again. And again.
Her voice was like a curse. “Die! All of you! Just die!”
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