Drake was silent for a moment, then laughed softly. “Camelia, are you really ready to let go of the man you’ve loved for ten years?”
“Yes.”
“Fine, one month is enough to bring him down. But since you chose me this time, I won’t let him go again.”
After hanging up, I remembered Drake’s once caring and persistent face. He had said Carl couldn’t protect me.
At the time, I thought it was a joke, but now it felt real. Without delay, I took care of my father and dragged my tired body back to the villa.
I opened the door and was hit by a strong perfume smell. In the living room, the maid was hanging Jocelyn’s photo on the wall and my carefully chosen limited-edition handbag was carelessly left on the coffee table.
I opened the door and was hit by a strong perfume smell. In the living room, the maid was hanging Jocelyn’s photo on the wall and my carefully chosen limited-edition handbag was carelessly left on the coffee table.
The maids paused, looking at each other, unsure of what to say.
Carl came down the stairs with Jocelyn in my pajamas. “I asked them to move these. It’s not safe for Jocelyn outside,” he said. “I’m worried.”
So he was worried and she wanted to intrude, even take my bedroom? I looked at him, too tired to ask anything.
Jocelyn spoke shyly, “Camelia, I’ll just sleep in the guest room…”
“No need,” Carl cut her off, looking at me coldly. “The master bedroom is for Jocelyn. You’ll sleep in the guest room.”
Before I could speak, Jocelyn looked at me gently. “Camelia, I’m a little hungry. Carl said you cook well. Could you make me some noodles?”
Carl looked at me too, his eyes commanding. “Go now.”
A sharp, heavy pain hit my chest. My mother had just died, my father was in the ICU and my husband wanted me to cook noodles for the woman who killed my mother.
I forced a faint smile. “No!”
His face darkened. “Camelia, are you not listening to me?!”
I pulled my hand back slowly. “Carl, I’m your wife, not your servant.”
I didn’t want to stay another second. I went upstairs to grab some personal items, but when I opened the bedroom door, I almost froze.
When I came downstairs, I saw Jocelyn in the living room holding a photo frame; it was the last family photo of me with my parents.
“Who gave you permission to touch that!” I shouted as I ran down the stairs.
Seeing me, she seemed startled. Her hand slipped and the photo frame fell, shattering loudly.
“I’m sorry, Camelia! I didn’t mean to!” Jocelyn cried, crouching to pick up the pieces, but glass cut her finger and it started bleeding.
“Jocelyn!” Carl rushed forward and pulled her up. He checked her fingers anxiously, then looked up, his eyes full of rage.
“Camelia, you can’t even tolerate her? You threw things to scare her and even hurt her!”
“I threw them? Carl, are you blind?”
“Enough!” Carl cut me off, his eyes full of disappointment and disgust. “I saw everything clearly!”
He told the butler, who had run over at his voice, “Take her upstairs. She isn’t allowed out of the guest room without my permission. She needs to reflect on her actions!”
I watched him hold Jocelyn, comforting her, while she secretly gave me a cruel, victorious smile.
A wave of despair and hatred hit me. I didn’t resist as the servants led me out of the living room.
Carl, is this your idea of making it up to me for the rest of your life?
