Chapter 126

Chapter 126

Faced with Caspian's uncontrolled fury, Camilla didn't back away.

The stabbing pain in her stomach was still churning.

She forced herself through the agony, slowly extending her pale, slender hand to grip Caspian's wrist where it pressed against the edge of the sofa.

The muscles in the man's forearm were taut as steel cables, his pulse racing with barely suppressed panic.

Camilla yanked his large palm toward her and pressed it directly against her warm chest, over her heart.

"Caspian, feel it." Camilla tilted her face up to look at him, her eyes holding no fear of death—instead, they shone with an unprecedented clarity. "It's still beating."

Caspian's Adam's apple bobbed violently. He instinctively tried to pull his hand back, but she held it fast.

"If I don't get treatment, it'll stop completely in six months." Camilla's eyes reddened, her voice hoarse as she spoke each word with deliberate slowness. "I used to think dying didn't matter. Those years at the Clifford family—Theodric never treated me like a person. Serena tortured me in every way she could think of. Every day I felt so exhausted just breathing that I had no will to live."

"But now I don't want to die." Tears finally spilled from Camilla's eyes, falling onto Caspian's hand, burning hot. "I've become greedy."

"I want to watch Holden grow up. I want to build Second Decade Studio with my own hands. And more than that…" Camilla paused, her gaze locked onto Caspian's reddened eyes. "I want to live with dignity and stay by your side."

"I don't want to be just a six-month countdown in your lives."

"Even if there's only a thirty percent chance, I'm willing to bet my life for our future!"

Caspian's tall frame shuddered violently.

He gripped Camilla's hand in return, his strength nearly crushing her fingers.

"Thirty percent is too low." Caspian's voice cracked, each word saturated with lingering terror. "What if you don't make it off the operating table? What if you can't even survive this month? Camilla, I can't take that gamble."

He was ruthless in business, never blinking at billion-dollar deals.

But now, facing this thirty percent survival rate, he was too terrified to even find the courage to sign.

"Daddy."

A small body suddenly squeezed between them.

Holden, wearing his bright yellow down jacket, stretched out his chubby little hands and wrapped them tightly around Caspian's leg.

The little boy still had tears clinging to his lashes, but when he looked up, his tone was surprisingly serious.

"Camilla wants to stay with me forever."

"Daddy, let's protect Camilla together, okay? God promised me she'll live a long life."

Caspian looked down at his son.

Father and son's eyes met.

Hearing those words—"let's protect Camilla together"—the psychological defenses Caspian had stretched to their breaking point finally shattered.

He squeezed his eyes shut. A single tear slid from the corner of his eye and hit the carpet.

The next second, Caspian opened his arms and pulled both Camilla and Holden into his embrace.

His grip was so tight it felt like he wanted to fuse them into his bones.

"Okay." Caspian buried his face in the crook of Camilla's neck, his voice trembling uncontrollably. "We'll take the bet."

"But if you dare leave us halfway, I'll drag you back no matter what."

Ten minutes later.

Dr. Stuart entered with the official family consent form and a thick stack of treatment protocols.

Caspian signed his name in dual capacity—as family and temporary guardian.

When he finished the last stroke, the pen tip tore straight through the paper.

Three p.m.

The first phase of targeted cellular reconstruction therapy officially began.

Camilla changed into a sterile hospital gown and lay in the bed of the special care unit.

Pale blue liquid dripped through the IV line, entering her veins drop by drop.

For the first two hours, everything was normal.

Camilla could even lean against the headboard, softly reading picture books to Holden.

But just past the third hour.

Everything changed.

Camilla's hand, which had been turning pages, suddenly froze. The book slipped from her grip and hit the floor with a sharp smack.

She let out a piercing, agonized scream without warning!

Her entire body jerked upward from the hospital bed, then slammed back down. Her body arched uncontrollably, her spine pulled taut to its limit.

"Camilla!" Holden burst into tears.

Caspian shoved his son toward Flynn behind him. "Get him out! Don't let him see this!"

Flynn immediately scooped up the sobbing Holden and rushed out of the room.

Caspian lunged to the bedside, his hands clamping down on Camilla's thrashing body to keep her from hurting herself against the bed rails.

The rejection reaction had arrived.

And it came with a ferocity that far exceeded everyone's expectations.

Camilla's skin broke out in massive, eerie red welts at a visible rate. The temperature readout spiked wildly, racing toward 104 degrees Fahrenheit.

She was in agony.

Pain radiated from deep within her bones—a nauseating ache and sharp stabbing—as if someone were taking a hammer and smashing every joint in her body inch by inch, then forcing them back together.

Her muscles spasmed and convulsed beyond her control.

"It hurts… God, it hurts…"

Camilla shook her head frantically, eyes squeezed shut. Cold sweat instantly soaked through her hospital gown.

Her hands clawed at the sheets with such force that her nails bent backward, blood seeping out.

Her jaw clenched so hard her teeth ground together audibly. She bit through her lip, blood trickling down her chin.

Caspian's eyes blazed with anguish.

Without hesitation, he shoved his own wrist between her teeth.

"Bite me! Camilla, don't bite yourself—bite me!"

Camilla, delirious with pain, bit down hard.

The metallic taste of blood flooded the space between them.

Dr. Stuart and the medical team rushed in, quickly pushing sedatives through the IV line.

It didn't work.

Pain at the cellular level couldn't be suppressed by standard sedatives.

From afternoon through the evening, Camilla drifted in and out of semi-consciousness, trapped in relentless torture.

The bedsheets were changed three times, all soaked through with cold sweat.

Caspian stayed at her side every second. His expensive custom shirt was covered in scratches and wrinkles from her clawing hands.

He continuously wiped her sweat with warm towels. He kept talking to her, his voice never stopping.

Two a.m.

The hospital room finally fell quiet.

Only the monotonous beeping of the machines remained.

After enduring eleven hours of torment, Camilla had finally passed out from exhaustion.

Her breathing was so faint it was barely detectable.

Caspian sat in the chair beside the bed, both hands gripping her ice-cold fingers.

The man's eyes were bloodshot from staying awake, staring unblinking at the vital signs monitor above the bed.

2:15 a.m.

The monitor suddenly erupted with a piercing alarm!

The heart rate on the screen began plummeting from 80.

60!

40!

20!

Blood pressure crashed through the floor.

Oxygen saturation plunged. The screen flashed violent red warnings.

"Doctor!" Caspian shot to his feet, knocking over the chair behind him.