Chapter 83
Turner shook his head in resignation and followed Giovani’s instructions, heading to the bank to withdraw a thick bag of cash.
Not long after, Turner appeared in William’s hospital room, carrying the bag of money.
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William had just regained consciousness, his head wrapped in heavy bandages. The moment he saw Turner enter, his eyes filled with undisguised disgust–he knew Turner was working for Giovani.
Though William didn’t know Giovani well, he was sure of one thing–Giovani was arrogant to the bone, and a man like him wouldn’t admit fault even if beaten to the ground. For Turner to show up now, it could only mean trouble.
So William was nothing but friendly. He fixed a cold glare on Turner and snapped, his tone sharp, “Who allowed you to come in? Get out!”
Turner remained composed, unfazed by William’s hostility. He walked to the bedside and emptied the bag of money onto the hospital bed–three neat stacks of crisp bills.
With a mocking smirk, Turner picked up one stack and waved it in front of William. “This is from Mr. Campbell–your ‘medical expenses. He said 30 grand should cover it. Use the rest for supplements. Maybe it’ll help clear your head.”
William’s face turned ashen, his eyes blazing with fury. This was blatant humiliation.
Thirty grand might be a fortune for an average person, even a generous gesture. But for William, the heir of the Connor family in Sancho, this amount wouldn’t even cover the cost of his shoes.
His head had been hurt badly, and yet, in Giovani’s eyes, it was worth no more than 30 grand. And the comment about clearing his head meant that Giovani was calling him brainless.
Rage surged through William, his veins bulging as fury twisted his features. He grabbed the money from the bed and hurled it at Turner with all his might. “Get out!”
Turner, quick on his feet, dodged effortlessly. The bills scattered across the floor, not even brushing his clothes.
Watching William’s frenzied state, Turner felt a smug satisfaction, though his face remained composed. “Come on, Mr. Connor, why so worked up? My boss was just being generous, but you refuse to appreciate it.”
The calmer Turner appeared, the more William seemed like a madman. Consumed by anger, William could only wish to tear Turner to pieces.
Ignoring the pain from his wounds, William struggled to get out of bed to attack Turner. But his body betrayed him, and he stumbled, falling to the ground.
Turner couldn’t hold back a chuckle. “Seeing you so full of energy, Mr. Connor, I guess your injuries aren’t that serious anymore. Rest well–I’ll go back and let Mr. Campbell know you’re still alive and kicking.”
With that, Turner strode out of the room, even thoughtfully closing the door behind him. Just before the door shut completely, he turned back and flashed William a wide grin. “See you around, Mr. Connor. Don’t miss me too much.”
Turner’s infuriating demeanor left William seething, his anger reaching its peak.
The room fell silent, broken only by William’s heavy breathing. The scattered bills on the floor seemed to mock his helplessness.
It took him a while to calm down. Even though he hadn’t seen who had hit him on the head, it wasn’t hard to figure out—it
had to be Giovani’s fiancée.
William thought of how strangely Giovani and that woman had acted. He’d just wanted a glimpse of her face, but Giovani
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Chapter 83
had freaked out, acting like he was guarding something precious. It made no sense.
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William narrowed his eyes, a calculating look flashing across them. He figured that woman might just be the key to helping him secure the Eastville project.
He pulled out his phone and dialed his assistant. “Find out everything you can about Giovani’s fiancée. The more detailed, the better.”
After hanging up, he sat on the hospital bed, his thoughts drifting to Camila. It had been four or five days now, and there was still no news of her.
‘She’s broke, injured, and barely holding herself together. Where could she possibly go with her battered body? The thought gnawed at him, leaving him restless. He decided to call Harry, hoping for some clues, but the call went unanswered.
William’s brow furrowed deeply, anxiety bubbling up inside him. He redialed again and again, but each time, the result was the same–no answer.
“Damn it. Why won’t he pick up?” Frustrated, William angrily tossed his phone onto the table beside him.
Meanwhile, at the Jackson residence, Harry was completely wasted, the alcohol tearing through his stomach like jagged glass, leaving him gasping for air.
Curled up like a shrimp, he clung to the toilet bowl, vomiting violently. Sweat dripped from his forehead in large beads, and his throat convulsed with dry heaves.
His stomach twisted and churned non–stop, like it was being wrung out. Even after he emptied his stomach, the pain only intensified, sharp and unbearable, pushing him to the brink of fainting.
Staggering out of the bathroom, Harry looked drained of all strength, his steps unsteady as he made his way to the sofa.
With a heavy thud, he collapsed onto the sofa, clutching his stomach tightly and muttering weakly, “Camila, my stomach hurts… Bring me my medicine…”
Belinda and Arthur, alarmed by the noise, rushed into Harry’s room, only to be met with a chaotic scene that made them
gasp.
Empty bottles were strewn across the floor, the air thick with the sharp stench of alcohol. Harry lay curled up on the sofa, his face pale as a sheet and his lips devoid of color, looking utterly pitiful.
Belinda’s heart ached as she saw this. She hurried to his side, crouching down and gently stroking his forehead. “Harry, why did you drink so much?” she asked, her voice trembling.
Arthur, however, frowned deeply. Hearing Harry call out for Camila ignited his anger. ‘Camila again! What’s so special about that useless girl? Compared to Agnes, she’s not even worth mentioning.
‘If she weren’t still useful, I wouldn’t have brought her back from the orphanage eight years ago. I could have just left her there or worse, sending her off to some remote place. But not doing that was already an act of mercy.’
With these thoughts, Arthur lashed out at Harry, his voice sharp and scolding. “Look at yourself! Skipping work, drinking all day–do you want to turn into a complete failure?”
Harry slowly opened his eyes, his gaze meeting his parents‘. A mix of emotions flickered in his eyes–pain, guilt, and above all, helplessness. “Dad, Mom… I feel terrible…” His voice was hoarse and weak, each word seeming to drain the last of his strength.
Belinda’s eyes reddened, her voice trembling with emotion. “You feel terrible? We feel the same. Look at what you’ve done to yourself.”
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Chapter 83
Harry shut his eyes in anguish, tears slipping down his cheeks. In that moment, memories of Camila’s kindness flooded back to him.
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During the three years she had cared for him, his stomach problems had completely healed. But after she was imprisoned, his stomach started aching again the next year.
Over the past two years, the pain had grown more frequent. Yet, despite knowing this, he continued to drink excessively, as if punishing himself would somehow bring Camila back.
“I messed up… I really messed up… Camila, I’m sorry…” Harry murmured to himself.
Belinda’s heart twisted at the sight of her son’s suffering. She gently patted his shoulder, her voice soft and comforting. “Alright, stop blaming yourself. All she ever wanted was family’s love. She won’t leave us for good. Once she’s calmed down, she’ll come back.”
Arthur, however, had a starkly different view. To him, Camila was nothing but trouble–a curse that had nearly destroyed their family. She hated them, and he didn’t think she’d return.
Despite his disdain for Camila, Arthur didn’t wish for her death. After all, her other kidney was still healthy, and it might come in handy.
AD
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09.25 FM, 25 Apr
Chapter 84
