Chapter 57
After leaving the Garcia Group, Camila stood by the roadside, waiting for a cab. She fumbled in her pocket for a moment before calling the detective.
"I've got a lead, but I'm not sure if it's useful."
The detective's voice came through the receiver, "Ms. Wilson, go ahead."
Leaning against a lamppost, Camila recounted everything Leila had told her and Emily's sudden disappearance.
"So, you think Laura's death might not have been a suicide because of depression?"
The detective paused, then pressed on, "And you suspect Emily might have indirectly caused your previous kidnapping?"
"Yeah."
These two events seemed unrelated, but for some reason, she felt they were all connected to Laura's death.
She took a deep breath, her voice growing colder, "Someone doesn't want me to dig deeper. The closer I get to the truth, the more desperate they become to stop me."
"Got it," the detective replied with unwavering certainty. "I'll re-examine the clues and get back to you within a week."
After hanging up, she took a cab home. From a distance, she saw four or five uniformed property staff blocking the entrance to her apartment complex, looking troubled.
"Ms. Wilson, you're finally back!" The property manager, wringing his hands, greeted her with a tone full of helplessness.
Camila frowned and followed his gaze to see a dozen luxury cars haphazardly parked below her building. She recognized them just by their license plates.
"Alright, I understand. Please wait a moment."
Without saying much, she walked straight into the building. As the elevator ascended, her reflection in the mirror showed her cold expression.
Her apartment door was ajar. As she pushed it open, she found Clifford leaning against the shoe cabinet in the entryway, legs crossed, twirling his car keys, staring directly at Willie.
Willie stood opposite him, back straight, fists clenched, showing no sign of backing down.
"What's going on?" Camila paused while changing her shoes, finally realizing Clifford wasn't joking this morning—he really intended to stay here.
Clifford immediately straightened up, the coldness on his face dissipating significantly.
He raised his chin slightly, his tone almost shamelessly candid, "Nothing much, just had some free time today, so I moved my stuff over."
Willie stood firm, still unwilling to compromise, "She didn't agree."
Clifford placed his box in the corner of the living room, turned around, and raised an eyebrow at him, "She will. But you..."
He looked Willie up and down, his tone carrying a hint of elder-like mockery, "What right do you have to stop me?"
"I knew her when you were still a kid."
"Really?" Willie's face turned red, but he stubbornly retorted, "Then all these years you haven't won her over, which means she doesn't like you."
Clifford was momentarily speechless, about to retort when Camila coldly interrupted.
"If you two keep arguing, you can both get out." She straightened up after changing her shoes, turning to look at them with a cold voice.
She knew Clifford's personality. Instead of forcing him to leave, it was better to accept it calmly. Maybe he'd leave on his own in a few days.
Camila spent the entire evening in her bedroom.
The hot water in the bathroom ran as she stared at herself in the mirror for a long time. It wasn't until her fingers wrinkled from the water that she turned off the shower.
Wrapped in a robe, she lay on the bed, the sky outside completely dark.
She lay there for a while before hearing a soft knock on the wall by her ear.
Though the sound was faint, it was clear.
Camila knew who it was. She wanted to ignore it, but after a few seconds, the knocking resumed, persistent and rhythmic.
Reluctantly, she took out her phone and sent a WhatsApp message: [What do you want?]
The reply came instantly.
[I want to talk to you. You didn't reply to my messages or answer my calls, so I had to use Morse code.]
Camila paused, typing: [You didn't bully Willie, did you? He's young, don't take advantage of him.]
[Me, take advantage? That kid is tough, you saw it yourself.]
Without looking, Camila could imagine how angry the person on the other end must be.
After a while, Clifford seemed to have calmed down and sent a new message: [But I won't fight him, after all...]
Followed by an ellipsis.
Camila rolled her eyes, ready to put her phone down and sleep.
[Aren't you curious? After all, he looks a bit like me when I was seventeen or eighteen, don't you think?]
Camila stared at the message for a couple of seconds, her fingers hovering over the screen, but she didn't type a word.
She closed her eyes, trying to fall asleep, when she heard a soft click from the guest room next door—the sound of a door opening.
The next second, her bedroom door was gently pushed open.
Clifford didn't knock, just turned the doorknob and peeked his head in, his deep eyes shining like stars in the dim light.
Camila's heart skipped a beat under his gaze. Almost instinctively, she moved over, making room on the bed.
This action seemed like a form of consent. Seeing this, Clifford quickly lifted the blanket and slipped in, his warm hands and feet wrapping around her.
"Get away, it's too hot." Camila pushed him, her palm touching his firm chest, feeling the heat.
"Turn on the air conditioning, it'll be fine in a bit."
Camila turned her back to him, not wanting to meet his gaze.
The person behind her was quiet for a few seconds before he suddenly lowered his head and planted a feather-light kiss on the back of her head.
"Stop it."
But Clifford ignored her, his hand slipping under the blanket, roaming freely over her body.
Camila, annoyed, squirmed under the covers, trying to escape his touch. Instead, he took it as an invitation, pressing her down, his hot kisses landing on her brows, lips, neck, and chest, his hands naturally tugging at her robe.
Expressionless, Camila picked up the glasses case from the bedside table and gave him a light smack.
"Damn, that hurt."
The tactic worked. Clifford yelped and stopped his actions.
"Behave yourself. Willie's still in the house. You don't want to set a bad example, do you?"
Clifford pouted, rubbing his smacked hand, looking somewhat pitiful, which softened her heart a bit.
"You have two choices: either close your eyes or go back to your room."
"I'll sleep, I'll sleep right now."
He immediately surrendered, moving over obediently, creating some distance, though his breath still occasionally brushed against her ear.