Chapter 67

Chapter 67

Albert's hand froze. Even though he'd pieced together the truth during countless sleepless nights, hearing it from her felt like a dull knife repeatedly stabbing his heart, making every breath sting.

Camila slowly lifted her gaze, her eyes cold and distant. Her fingertips lightly traced the veins on Albert's forearm, her tone as indifferent as if she were discussing someone else's affairs. 

"I approached you, charmed you, even played those deep, affectionate scenes with you—all for the Garcia family's power. After all, only by leveraging your family's resources could my company grow faster."

"It's a pity. I thought being with you might help me, but you turned out to be completely useless."

Her words were merciless, hitting all of Albert's sensitive spots with precision. 

His eyes reddened instantly, bloodshot veins crawling across his gaze as he stared at Camila's face, his breathing growing heavier.

"Is that enough, or do you want me to continue?"

"Camila, you're too cruel." Albert's voice was hoarse. He suddenly grabbed her wrist, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of her arm, causing Camila's fingertips to curl in pain.

But as he was about to speak, he saw the coldness in her eyes and swallowed the rest of his words, his jaw clenched so tightly that his jawline became a hard, straight line.

"You don't need to go to such lengths to anger me." He took a deep breath, his voice carrying an obsessive determination. "Even if you drive me mad, I will never let you go."

Albert turned away, his back straight, his shoulders tense with suppressed anger. "For now, you'll stay here. Don't go back to Majestic City."

He paused, then turned his face slightly, a hint of malice flickering in his eyes. "Don't worry, no one will come to rescue you." 

He pulled out his phone, the screen's light casting shadows on his face. "Your friends are probably too busy to help you now."

Camila didn't understand what he meant until Albert slid his thumb across the screen and held the phone out to her. She saw that the top three trending topics were all about her.

#Camila the Murderer

#Camila Missing, Possibly Fleeing Kidnapping Charges

#The Past Pulled from Theaters, Box Office Fails to Hit $5 Billion

In the video, her company's entrance was swarmed with reporters and angry fans. 

Fiona, dressed in a sharp suit, tried to explain but was shoved against a wall, someone even throwing a punch. Her instinctive move to protect her head made Camila's fingertips go cold.

"Did you arrange all this?" Camila's voice trembled, her eyes filled with disbelief.

Albert couldn't meet her gaze. "This was bound to come out eventually. So what if it does?"

"You're not the killer, and you have me. You don't need a career."

As soon as he finished speaking, Camila's wrist tensed, and she slapped Albert hard across the face.

The sound echoed in the study, Albert's head snapping to the side, a clear handprint quickly appearing on his left cheek.

"Albert, you disgust me."

She quickly left the study, pulling out her phone to make a call, only to find there was no signal, not even for emergency calls.

Albert's footsteps followed her, his warm breath falling on the back of her neck. He sighed softly, his tone full of helpless control. "You can't leave."

"Your phone's useless, and your name's not registered at any airport or train station."

Camila froze, her fists clenching unconsciously, nails digging into her palms, drawing blood without her noticing.

Albert stared at her, raising his hand in a wave.

At the end of the hallway, a door opened, and three women in maid uniforms quietly walked out, standing with their hands at their sides. 

"Take good care of Ms. Wilson. Don't let her wander around."

"Yes, sir."

For the next week, Camila was completely cut off from the outside world. She couldn't contact anyone or receive any news.

Albert didn't bother her, spending most of his time in the study handling business.

Occasionally, they would run into each other in the dining room, acting like strangers. 

He would cut his steak, and she would pick at her salad, their eyes never meeting, the air filled only with the cold clink of cutlery.

Camila sat by the window, her fingers tracing the condensation on the glass, counting the days in her mind: seven days. Albert couldn't possibly move his company to the villa forever; there would always be matters he had to attend to outside.

As she was thinking, footsteps suddenly sounded behind her. 

Albert walked over without greeting her, resting his head on her shoulder, his warm breath brushing her earlobe. "What book are you reading?"

Camila didn't turn around, her fingers pinching the corner of the page, her tone flat. "A detective novel. It's about a woman who gets imprisoned by a man. She waits until he falls asleep, then kills him, dismembers him, and hides the parts in the fridge." 

She emphasized the word "dismembers," the coldness in her eyes unmistakable.

Albert chuckled, the vibration of his chest passing through to her shoulder, carrying a strange tenderness. "Really? Sounds interesting. I'll have to read it once I finish my work."

Camila finally turned her face away, avoiding his closeness. "What do you want?"

He hadn't come to her room in days.

"Tomorrow, accompany me to a cruise party. It's in Emberlyn. We'll leave tonight on a private jet."

Camila's expression remained blank. "Are you joking?"

She was now a publicly condemned "murderer." Attending a party, let alone appearing at an airport, would mean being mobbed by reporters.

What was Albert thinking?

"I'm not joking. I never intended to keep you locked up for long. That would be too unreasonable."

Albert stared at her without blinking.

Camila frowned deeply but didn't refuse. "Fine, I understand."

Late at night, the villa's lawn was lit up like daylight by the helicopter's searchlights. 

Camila stood on the terrace, the loud engine noise making her eardrums ache. She instinctively raised her hand to cover her ears.

On the helicopter, Albert held her hand. "You've never flown on a private jet, have you?" 

His tone carried a subtle hint of appeasement. "The pilot I hired has twenty years of experience. Don't be afraid."

"I have."

Camila was calm, quietly pulling her hand out of his grasp. "I'm very tired. Don't bother me."

But Albert stubbornly grabbed her hand again, his fingers repeatedly rubbing her knuckles, his grip too strong for her to break free.

Camila stopped struggling, turning her head to the window, blocking out the night outside, and slowly closed her eyes.