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With her back to Camila, Mackenzie didn’t know Camila had arrived, so she
continued making up stories.
“When Camila was in school, she was romantically involved with a male teacher. I heard that the teacher wrote Camila’s graduation thesis for her,”
“Well, we have to admit that she’s pretty,” the receptionist said in a sour tone.
“Pretty my ass! She’s wearing a label of slut on her face, and she seduces every man she can get close to,” Mackenzie retorted.
“That’s because she’s good at it. I hear that her boyfriend is quite handsome. He went to the same school as you two, right?”
“Samson is now my boyfriend,” Mackenzie said proudly.
“When did that happen?” The receptionist became curious. “Does that mean Camila got dumped?”
“Why do you seem so happy about that?!” Camila suddenly interjected, startling
the two.
“Are you a ghost? Why didn’t you make any sound when you walked? You scared me.” Mackenzie gave Camila a dirty look.
“Mackenzie, you’d better stop spreading rumors and instead help Samson apply for more job opportunities. Otherwise, with your current salary, you won’t be able to support him.”
Though Mackenzie and Camila were classmates, Camila had already become the financial director, while Mackenzie was just a lowly cashier. There was a significant disparity in their salaries.
Still, Camila had to work three jobs. On weekends, she had to hand out flyers as a part–time job, and sometimes, she would work as a model for advertising agencies. Because Samson always spent money recklessly on games, luxury items, and nightclubs.
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Of course, Camila had no intention of telling Mackenzie that.
At that moment, Mackenzie thought she had hit the jackpot, and upon hearing Camila’s sarcastic remarks, she merely saw it as jealous and resentful talk.
Mackenzie sneered contemptuously, “Thanks for your concern, but Startak Gaming has made an interview appointment with Samson. You must have heard of Startak Gaming, right? It’s a big company offering a monthly salary of 8,000 dollars.”
Mackenzie continued proudly, “You must be jealous, aren’t you?”
“Idiot!” Camila walked past Mackenzie and returned to her own office.
She saw a large stack of unprocessed financial receipts on her desk.
“Isn’t this the cashier’s job? Why did they give it to me?” Camila asked her assistant.
“Mr. Wescot said Mackenzie hasn’t been feeling well these days, so he asked you to take care of it,” the assistant replied.
“Why do I always have to do her work?” Camila was so angry that she slammed the folder on her desk, scattering the receipts all over the place.
This wasn’t the first time. In the past, Camila had no idea that Mackenzie was such a scheming bitch; but now Camila realized how stupid she had been to treat Mackenzie as her best friend.
The whole day, Camila was so busy that she didn’t even have time to drink water,
let alone eat.
When she returned home at night, she had some instant food for dinner.
Afterward, Camila made a video call to Gemma. Gemma was still unaware of her cancer, so Camila understated her condition and advised her to listen to the doctor and get proper treatment without worrying about money.
Gemma knew Camila had a lot of work to do, so she asked Camila not to worry
about her.
Camila wanted to tell Gemma about her marriage, but the words got stuck in her throat every time she tried.
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The next morning, Camila felt a bit feverish and had body aches, so she took a day
off.
At noon, she felt better, so she began packing her belongings, planning to move to Maxwell’s place in the evening.
The thought of sleeping in the same bed with a stranger made Camila inexplicably
nervous.
In the evening, Camila carried a suitcase and something other belongings to the address Maxwell had sent her.
It was No. 88, Garden Lane.
Garden Lane was located in an old neighborhood. The lane was narrow, with bicycles, electric tricycles, and all kinds of other stuff crowding both sides.
Pulling her suitcase, Camila stumbled along the way. She had asked many strangers for directions, but she still couldn’t find No. 88.
Gradually, she started to think she might have gotten to the wrong place.
Because the further she walked inside, the better the surroundings became. Not only did the road become wider, but she also saw private garages.
Where was No. 88?
All the strangers Camila had asked told her to keep walking ahead. Now, she had almost reached the end of the lane, but there was still no sign of No. 88.
Camila had no choice but to call Maxwell, but he didn’t answer. She tried again and again, but the result remained the same.
Eventually, the call went straight to voicemail.
Camila felt anxious and angry, wondering what the hell was wrong with that guy.
He told her to move in tonight, but he didn’t even bother to go to pick her up. Now she was lost, and he wouldn’t pick up his phone.
Feeling a bit dizzy, Camila sat on the stone steps in a green area. After a long time, a blinding car light illuminated the area.
Camila looked up and saw Maxwell, backlit by the light, getting out of the car.
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She tried to get up, but her legs had gone numb from sitting too long, and she fell forward.
Camila expected a painful landing, but Maxwell caught her with his strong arm before it happened.
“Thank you,” Camila said, feeling a bit embarrassed.
“Why didn’t you go in?” Maxwell asked.
“I can’t find No. 88.”
“Was you the one who called me earlier tonight?” Maxwell had been in a meeting with senior executives, but his phone had kept ringing, so he’d turned it off.
“Uh–huh. Why didn’t you answer the calls?” Camila was miffed. This guy sure knew how to play dumb.
“Let’s go inside,” Maxwell didn’t explain but changed the subject. He took out the key and walked toward the building from across Camila.
Was this No. 88? Camila glanced at the doorplate that had been blocked by branches. Indeed, it was.
Maxwell opened the door, and a woman around fifty years old came out.
“Raven, is my grandpa asleep?” Maxwell asked.
“Not yet. He said he was waiting for you to come home,” Raven Laxton replied.
Maxwell went in with big strides, unaware that Camila was struggling with her heavy luggage.
The steps were high. Camila exerted all her strength but couldn’t lift the suitcase
up even one step.
Suddenly, a large hand reached out and took the suitcase from Camila’s hand.
At that moment, Camila felt touched.
In her memory, Samson had never helped her carry anything.
During the last time they moved, Samson hadn’t helped with anything. Camila had carried seven or eight large boxes upstairs all on her own.
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Yet, Samson had complained that she was lazy and messy, leaving everything unorganized. But all Samson had done was play games and make her order
takeout.
“Are you coming in or not?”
Maxwell’s displeased voice snapped Camila out of her trance.
She stepped inside.
The courtyard, though not large, was tidy. There were various potted plants along
the walls.
Suddenly, Camila exclaimed.
She was so busy looking around that she accidentally stepped on a pebble and almost fell to the ground.
Maxwell turned around.
Camila felt embarrassed and waved her hand, saying, “I’m fine.”
Maxwell glanced at the pebble on the ground, walked over, kicked it aside, and then reached out his hand.
The hand was skinny and had some calluses, which were most likely the result of regular exercise.
Camila was puzzled.
Maxwell pursed his lips.
The next moment, he took Camila’s hand.
The warmth from his hand caused Camila’s heart to skip a beat.
Maxwell handed the suitcase to Raven and led Camila to Gideon’s room door.
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