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Camila watched Marc, her heart a tumult of emotions. In that moment, he was no longer the dashing tycoon, but a frail old man, staggering under the weight of the truth.
She spoke softly, “My blood type is none of your business, and I won’t be going for any tests with you. From the moment I was born, you abandoned my mother and me. You were heartless.”
Her voice was calm, yet filled with resolve and indifference. Her gaze was icy as she glanced at Tabitha and then at the brightly lit operating room. With a light laugh, she said, “Mr. Marc, perhaps this is your ‘just deserts“.”
Camila’s words pierced Marc’s heart like a knife. He clutched his head in agony, staggering and leaning on a bench for support.
He knew Claire, and he knew the woman before him was his only daughter. He wanted to explain, to make amends, but he knew it was too late.
Camila smiled faintly, a trace of relief in her eyes. She turned to Connor and said softly, “Mr. Connor, let’s go.”
Connor nodded, gently guiding Camila away from the scene.
“Camila… Camila…” Marc collapsed powerlessly into the chair, staring blankly in the direction Camila had left, his heart swirling with
indescribable regret and pain.
Camila and Connor walked out of the hospital, and she looked up at the sky, taking a deep breath. In that moment, she felt an unprecedented sense of relief and freedom.
She turned to Connor with a sweet smile and said, “Mr. Connor, I’ll treat you to ice cream.”
Connor glanced at her, a smile curling at his lips. He teasingly replied, “Treating me to a dessert you know I don’t like? Or is it actually
you who wants it?”
Camila winked and laughed, “Well, I’m in a good mood and feel like having some ice cream.”
Their laughter mingled.
Let’s go, Connor said, his eyes reflecting affection.
They entered a renowned dessert parlor. Camila confidently walked up to the counter and ordered two scoops of ice cream and a drink.
As the tempting scoops of ice cream were placed at their table, Camila scooped a spoonful into her mouth, closing her eyes as if
savoring the sweet flavor.
Connor watched her content expression, reminded of the time she tasted an orange–flavored candy. Back then, her eyes sparkled with surprise, as if the whole world had turned sweeter.
They sat by a window, the bustling street and passersby visible through the glass. Suddenly, Camila asked, “Mr. Connor, are you sure you won’t try some?” This belongs to NôvelDrama.Org - ©.
Connor smiled and shook his head, “You enjoy it. Sweets aren’t for me.”
Camila frowned slightly, puzzled, “Didn’t you eat candy as a kid?”
Connor just smiled, watching her quietly.
“Thanks, Mr. Connor,” Camila put down her spoon, her gaze sincere, “Thank you for always protecting me, for standing up for me without hesitation whenever I was bullied.”
Connor looked at her and smiled, “As your supervisor, it’s only natural to protect you. No thanks needed.”
Camila laughed softly, “I know, but I still want to say thank you, I always thought I was quite unlucky. Maybe all my luck was spent on meeting a great boss like you.”