When she glanced back at him, he looked utterly fragile, his eyes practically begging for a shred of pity.
Camilla quickly shoved down the brief flicker of discomfort in her chest. The man was Calvin's own son, yet he didn't even seem genuinely devastated. Instead, he was weaponizing the death to manipulate her into feeling sorry for him. The entire family was callous and completely devoid of morals.
"What goes around comes around," she said, her voice dripping with ice. "You've spent your life doing unforgivable things. Did you really think you'd get a happy ending?"
He offered another self-deprecating smile. "Are you really that brutal? Not even a single word of comfort?"
"Did you ever comfort your victims?" she shot back. "I don't know exactly what Calvin was involved in, but if he ran off to Valdoria and instantly linked up with those criminals, he was dirty. I don't make a habit of comforting executioners. I don't care if you're sad or if you're trying to play some sick mind game. Get out of my sight."
"You've changed," he murmured. "I always thought you were kind."
She scoffed at the sheer hypocrisy. "My kindness is selective. I don't waste it on psychos."
"So nothing I do matters, does it? In your eyes, I'll always be the villain."
She hated him. She had hated him long before she knew the truth about her father, so this new revelation didn't exactly change the dynamic between them. She had never planned on forgiving him anyway. Their relationship was already shattered beyond repair.
And since that was the case...
Barnard seemed to realize that playing the patient, waiting game wasn't going to work. He slowly rolled his chair closer. "I honestly thought that if I just gave you enough time, you'd eventually come around. But it looks like that's never going to happen, so I guess there's no point in dragging this out. I'm in a terrible mood today. Come here and give me a hug."
He framed it as a request, but his hand lashed out, wrapping around her wrist in an iron grip. He yanked hard, trying to pull her against his chest.



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