Chapter 82

Leila nodded vigorously, slowing her steps. "After I got famous, a friend I met in the hospital reached out. He said he wanted to celebrate the end of my shoot, so I made time for dinner with him."

"He went to the bathroom halfway through, leaving his laptop open. I didn't think much of it, but the screen was on, and I glanced at it out of habit. What I saw was..."

She swallowed hard, her voice shaking with fear. "The folder was labeled 'LW.' I immediately thought it had something to do with Laura. I couldn't resist and clicked on it. There were at least a thousand photos of Laura. None of them were explicit, but many were clearly taken without her knowing—on her balcony, outside her office, even at the grocery store."

Leila sighed in frustration, slapping her thigh. "I panicked. I didn't have a USB drive with me, so I couldn't copy the photos. By the time I thought to take screenshots, he was already back."

"It's okay, whether you copied them or not doesn't matter," Camila said, taking a deep breath, though her fingers still trembled slightly. "First, tell me, what's this friend's name?"

"Sam Rivera," Leila recalled confidently. "No one really knows what he does, but I've heard his family has some connections."

If he really has connections, Clifford should be able to find out who he is.

When they got back to the hotel, their colleagues were still cleaning up the BBQ equipment in the lobby. Leila greeted everyone and then headed to her room with her suitcase.

Clifford was leaning against the hallway wall, a cigarette unlit between his fingers. When he saw Camila approaching, he put the cigarette back in his pocket.

"So, what are your plans next?" Camila asked first, her eyes on his tense jawline.

Clifford scoffed, his tone clearly resentful. "You still care about me?"

Camila didn't respond, just looked at him quietly. The cold war over the past few days had obviously taken a toll on him, and even his eyes showed a hint of grievance.

She took two steps closer until they were only about two feet apart and said softly, "Didn't you say you wanted me to visit your place?"

She paused, meeting his gaze. "I agree."

Clifford didn't seem surprised. Instead, he raised an eyebrow, his tone knowing. "What's the catch?"

"What?" Camila feigned confusion.

He chuckled, reaching out to touch her hair but stopping midway, instead grabbing her wrist. "Don't pretend. Knowing you, agreeing so easily must come with conditions, right?"

Camila didn't deny it. She gently scratched his palm with her fingertips, her tone softening. "First, I want you to help me keep an eye out for some film opportunities. Second, have you heard of 'the Rivera family'?"

"The Rivera family?" Clifford's brow furrowed instantly, his grip tightening unconsciously. "Which Rivera family? What do they do? I don't recall anything."

"Really?" A hint of doubt flashed in Camila's eyes, but she didn't press further. "When do you plan to take me to your place?"

"Tomorrow," Clifford replied without hesitation. "As soon as we get back to the States, we'll go."

Camila was surprised by his urgency but nodded. "Okay."

Their flight landed on the third morning. Camila only went home to drop off her luggage. As soon as she opened the door, she saw Clifford's black sedan parked downstairs.

He was leaning against the car, dressed in a sharp suit, clearly having made an effort. They didn't say much. Camila got into the passenger seat, and the car headed towards the upscale neighborhood.

This was Camila's first visit to the Thompson Mansion. Her last memory of Clifford's father, Stephen, was from over a decade ago.

Back then, she was still in the orphanage. Stephen had come with Clifford's mother and a young Clifford to donate supplies. The man, barely in his forties, had eyes as sharp as an eagle's, making it hard to look directly at him.

As the car stopped in front of the Thompson Mansion, Camila felt a wave of oppressive energy.

Two bodyguards in black suits stood outside the ornate iron gate. They approached as soon as they saw Clifford's car, but their expressions changed when they saw Camila in the passenger seat.

They quickly opened the back door, speaking cautiously. "Mr. Clifford Thompson, welcome back. Mr. Stephen Thompson said..."

"Whatever he said doesn't concern me," Clifford interrupted, walking straight to the passenger side, opening the door, and stubbornly taking Camila's hand to lead her inside.

Camila frowned, her steps halting in sync with his.

One of the older bodyguards stepped forward, looking even more troubled. "Mr. Clifford Thompson, Mr. Stephen Thompson specifically instructed that Ms. Wilson is not allowed inside. Please don't make things difficult for us."

"Is that so?" Clifford sneered, his voice rising. "I'm not here to see him today. I'm here for my mom."

He paused, his gaze sweeping over the bodyguards. "Tell Stephen I know about the $300 million deal he's negotiating. If he wants it to go smoothly, he better not give me trouble over something this trivial."

Camila's heart skipped a beat. She had heard rumors that Clifford was deliberately separating his business from the Thompson Group. It seemed they weren't baseless.

Sure enough, the bodyguards' faces turned pale. They exchanged glances, and no one dared to stop them.

The iron gate slowly opened. As Camila followed Clifford into the courtyard, they rounded the fountain and saw two women sitting by the living room's floor-to-ceiling windows.

Hearing footsteps, both women turned. Their expressions changed upon seeing Camila—one looked curious, the other openly hostile.

"Is this Camila?" The older woman stood up first, walking towards them in high heels. She wore a champagne-colored suit, her hair styled in an elegant updo.

She scrutinized Camila with narrow eyes, a polite smile on her lips. "Hello, I'm Julia Carter. You can call me Julia."

Camila understood. Julia was one of Stephen's mistresses. She had been with him for seven years but hadn't had any children. Rumor had it that she was losing favor due to her age and might be kicked out any day.

Camila nodded slightly, maintaining a polite smile without addressing her.

"Stephen is in the study with a guest," Julia turned to Clifford, her tone advising. "You should wait in the living room and calm down before going in."

Clifford ignored her, leading Camila towards the stairs. The younger woman suddenly laughed, her voice sharp. "I can't believe Clifford is so infatuated. Even with your dad's explicit orders, you dare bring her back. Too bad..."

She didn't finish her sentence, silenced by Clifford's icy glare. "Who do you think you are, talking to me like that?" His tone was on the verge of anger, his grip on Camila's hand tightening.