They Beg For My Return (Camila Jackson) novel Chapter 107

Chapter 107

Chapter 107

The night was deep and dark, like thick black paint splashed wildly across the sky.

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Neon lights rippled across the glossy surface of the black Rolls–Royce. Sean Evans, the driver, spotted Giovani and swiftly opened the car door. He bowed slightly, his gaze lowered in a gesture of respect, patiently waiting for Giovani to step inside.

Giovani held Camila in his arms, his crystal cufflinks catching the faint shimmer of the night. Camila nestled against him like a drowsy kitten, her small frame relaxed and trusting.

Out of nowhere, a shadow tore through the champagne–gold glow of the streetlights. A fist, sharp and forceful, sliced through the air, only to be intercepted by Turner just three inches from Giovani’s face.

A sickening crack echoed as bones shifted unnaturally, drawing a muffled groan of pain from the attacker. Turner had him firmly restrained, leaving him completely immobilized.

“Giovani!” the attacker roared, struggling against the grip holding him back. “Our family has no beef with you. Why the hell did you have my parents‘ legs broken and throw my sister in jail? What are you trying to pull?”

Giovani narrowed his eyes slightly, his gaze sharpening as he finally recognized the disheveled figure before him–it was Harry.

Harry’s suit was wrinkled and hung loosely on him, his hair a chaotic mess falling over his forehead. His unshaven face was marked by exhaustion, with dark circles under his bloodshot eyes making him look utterly haggard.

The sudden commotion stirred Camila from her sleep. She shifted slightly in Giovani’s arms, her long lashes fluttering as she slowly opened her eyes. A trace of confusion lingered in her gaze, still clouded by the remnants of sleep.

As her vision cleared and she took in the tense confrontation before her, she became acutely aware of being tightly held in Giovani’s embrace. A blush crept up her cheeks, and she murmured, “Mr. Campbell, please put me down.”

The warmth in Giovani’s arms vanished in an instant. His brows furrowed slightly, and a flicker of displeasure crossed his deep eyes. He turned to Harry, who had disturbed Camila’s rest, and his expression grew even colder—as if his eyes had frozen over.

When Harry saw Camila, a fleeting glimmer of joy flashed through his eyes. But quickly, it was replaced by a surge of anger.

He couldn’t help but recall the days following Camila’s disappearance, when he drowned his sorrows in alcohol. He had drunk himself into oblivion and ended up hospitalized with a perforated stomach.

After being discharged, he had wandered through life like a zombie, aimless and broken. Every time he thought of Camila’s glorious awards and prestigious university acceptance letters in the storage room, he was consumed by self–hatred for destroying her entire future.

For the past month, he’d been punishing himself, drowning in guilt and self–loathing. Yet, to his utter shock, he now discovered that Camila had already latched onto Giovani.

Compared to a month earlier, Camila looked dramatically better–her complexion vibrant and her face fuller with a healthy radiance. She was dressed in a custom designer gown, cradled intimately in Giovani’s arms. For Harry, the scene was like a knife twisting in his chest.

‘She must have been living a life of comfort and ease these days, while I had been left in the dark, thinking she’d disappeared and worrying myself sick like a fool, Harry thought bitterly.

“Camila,” Harry called, his voice hoarse and grating. “That bastard had Mom and Dad’s legs broken–they’re still in the hospital. And you’re here with him? Do you even care about our family anymore?”

Camila stared at Harry quietly, her gaze as calm and deep as a still lake. “Family? Did I ever have one?” she asked. Her voice was soft, yet it hit like a bombshell, reverberating through the silent night.

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Chapter 107

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Harry froze, guilt flashing across his face. He opened his mouth, but the words seemed stuck in his throat. After a long pause, he finally managed to say, “Camila, family ties can’t just be severed. If you’re hurt, you can always come home–we’ll figure it out together.”

“Go home? That just means more beatings. When did you guys ever care about my pain? When did you ever try to solve anything without violence?” Camila sneered, her voice cutting like a knife.

Her gaze was filled with disgust, as if she were looking at something utterly revolting. “You Jacksons love to stand on some imaginary high ground to judge me, but you never stop to reflect on your own mistakes.

“I’d been deceived by you all for three whole years. Time and again, I chose to trust you guys, and what did I get? Being thrown in prison.”

“I’ve paid the price–losing a leg and a kidney. That should be enough to repay the debt of being born to your parents.”

Camila spoke quietly, recounting those painful memories. Yet, not a trace of sorrow could be found on her face, as if the pain had long since frozen her heart.

Harry knew everything Camila said was true. But she was their parents‘ daughter anyway. He jabbed a finger at Giovani and shouted, “Are you really that heartless, Camila? Ignoring Mom and Dad just to stay with this… this killer?”

Camila fell silent. ‘Mr. Campbell’s so good. What woman wouldn’t fall for him? But me? With all my scars and baggage, I don’t deserve someone like him.’

Her silence, in Harry’s eyes, was as good as admission. He suddenly lost control, roaring, “You’re a grown woman! How can you still not tell right from wrong? Do you know how much pain Mom and Dad went through when their legs were brutally broken?”

Camila suddenly burst into laughter–a laugh so bitterly sarcastic it cut through Harry’s defenses like a knife.

A sudden realization struck him, and his gaze fell on Camila’s injured leg. In that instant, it was as if all the strength had been drained from him, leaving him slumped and even more haggard and tormented.

No one understood the pain of having their legs broken better than Camila–she had lived through it herself.

“I believe your parents‘ broken legs have nothing to do with Mr. Campbell,” Camila said in a firm voice as she turned her gaze to Giovani.

“Not my doing,” Giovani said casually, a faint smile playing at the corner of his lips.

Turner quickly chimed in, “I can vouch for that. Mr. Campbell hasn’t even seen the Jackson couple today.”

What Giovani and Turner said was indeed true, and Camila didn’t doubt it. After all, when she was dropped off at the hotel earlier, she had seen Arthur and Belinda–they had been perfectly fine then.

Whatever happened afterward, only the driver would know. Her gaze shifted to Sean, and Giovani and Turner followed suit -all three intense stares landed on him.

True to being Giovani’s guy, Sean remained utterly composed. His voice was calm and unwavering as he said, “The Jackson couple slipped on the stairs and broke their legs.”

Camila was stunned into silence. Giovani and Turner were equally speechless.

“You’re full of crap!” Harry shouted at Sean.

There were barely ten steps at the hotel entrance. Even if Arthur and Belinda fell, they’d only get a few scrapes at most. No way could they both end up with broken legs.

“Think I’m lying? Just ask the security guards who’ve been stationed at the entrance this whole time,” Sean replied, his tone

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Chapter 107

calm and deliberate.

The security guards had been watching the whole scene unfold. Hearing themselves mentioned, Bill felt his heart race.