Chapter 8
‘Camilla, seven years have passed,‘ he wondered.
*****
Camilla lay in bed, listening to Charles’s footsteps approaching the door. During the five years she had spent in the hospital, she had heard them too many times, from the initial anticipation to the eventual pain and *hatred.
Click. The moment the door opened, Camilla’s face, which had been filled with resentment, softened instantly. “Charles, are you done with your work?”
“Yes,” Charles replied without changing expression.
He walked over to the bedside and gently touched her face. “Why aren’t you asleep yet? Did I wake you up?”
Camilla saw the fresh, conspicuous lipstick mark on his white shirt collar. She could almost picture the scene just moments ago, Charles kissing Ophelia passionately, with her purring against him like a kitten, nuzzling his collar affectionately.
“Close your eyes to rest,” Charles cooed, bending down to give her a goodnight kiss.
Camilla caught a whiff of Ophelia’s perfume on him. He was about to kiss. her with the same lips he had just used to kiss another woman.
“Ugh,” Camilla couldn’t hold back her physiological disgust any longer and pushed Charles away abruptly, retching.
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Chapter
“What’s wrong, Camilla?” Charles was frantic with worry. “I’ll call Dr. Fisher right away.”
He looked like the perfect husband, at least to anyone who didn’t see the fleeting coldness and disgust in his eyes. Camilla had to admire Charles’s acting skills.
“No, Charles,” Camilla said, regaining her composure and reaching out to tug at the corner of his shirt. “I just felt a bit nauseous suddenly. Maybe I’m just hungry.”
Charles looked at Camilla’s hand clutching his shirt, a familiar gesture that made him momentarily dazed.
He remembered how Camilla used to do this in the past. When he walked too fast and she got tired of chasing after him, she would pout and pull at his shirt playfully. “Charles, wait for me.”
Lost in the memory, Charles’s lips curled into a rare, genuine smile. “How about I make you something warm to eat?”
Camilla had been waiting for him to say that. She smiled softly, her voice dripping with a feigned coyness. “Then I’d like some pasta cooked by you.”
He had only made it for her twice before.
“Alright,” Charles agreed, turning to leave the bedroom.
As soon as his footsteps faded, Camilla serambled to the bedside table on the other side and grabbed the phone Charles had left there when he came in. It was a six–digit password.
Camilla remembered that Charles’s old password was the date he became a director at Uniteon Group. But when she entered it, it was wrong.
He had changed it. Camilla unconsciously bit her finger, thinking for a
10:29
Chapter B
moment, then entered the birthdays of their two children. Still wrong.
Just then, a WhatsApp message popped up on the screen.
Ophelia: [Mr. Hawthorne, tonight was the happiest birthday I’ve ever had. Thank you for celebrating with the two little ones.]
It was followed by a heart symbol.
No wonder Ophelia and the kids had been waiting for him downstairs at the hospital tonight. Before coming here, he had taken her two children to celebrate Ophelia’s birthday.
Camilla clenched her eyes shut, feeling a chill in her heart. She felt so used.
All those years with Charles, he had never once taken the initiative to celebrate her birthday. The only time it happened was when she had. shamelessly leaned on Quentin Hawthorne to force it out of him.
The companionship she had begged for from Charles was so easily given to another woman.
Camilla stared at the six–digit password, a guess forming in her mind. ‘Could it be-‘ she wondered.
She hesitated, then entered Ophelia’s birthday. The next second, the screen lock was unlocked.
Camilla froze, her lips curling into a bitter, self–mocking smile. “Charles, you really are devoted to her.”
