Chapter 119

Chapter 119

Two men in black suits strode into the hospital room and positioned themselves on either side of Theodric.

"Mr. Clifford, this way." The bodyguard gestured firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Theodric clenched his jaw, turned with Ollie in his arms, and headed for the door.

As they reached the doorway, Ollie looked back over his father's shoulder at Camilla.

His small face was filled with resentment and confusion.

He didn't understand why the mother who used to give him everything he wanted now wouldn't even look at him.

The bodyguards closed the door from the outside.

The room fell silent again.

Camilla's taut nerves finally gave out. Her legs buckled, and she started to pitch forward.

Caspian reacted instantly, catching her around the waist with one arm and holding her steady.

"Thank you." Camilla steadied herself with his support, her face alarmingly pale.

She looked down at the back of her hand.

The bleeding had stopped, but where the IV needle had been torn out, a large swollen bruise had formed, purple and black.

Caspian frowned and pressed the call button by the bed.

A nurse rushed in. Seeing the state of Camilla's hand, she gasped.

Re-inserting the needle, securing it, adjusting the drip rate—it took half an hour before things settled down again.

Holden clung to the side of the bed, reaching out to gently touch Camilla's other hand.

"Camilla, does it still hurt?" His voice was muffled.

Camilla squeezed his soft little hand. "It doesn't hurt."

She turned to Caspian. "Mr. Mitchell, could you please help me with the discharge paperwork?"

Caspian had been wiping Holden's face. Hearing that, he paused.

"Your gastric bleeding hasn't healed." Caspian tossed the towel into the basin. "Dr. Green said you need at least a week of observation."

"I have to be discharged." Camilla sat up straight, gripping the edge of the bed. "Second Decade Studio has an extremely important venue signing tomorrow. Atticus already made an appointment with the landlord."

The venue was in the city center—prime location, reasonable rent.

She and Atticus had spent half a month securing it.

If she didn't sign tomorrow, the landlord would rent it to someone else.

"What's more important—the venue or your life?" Caspian walked over to the bed and looked down at her.

"I'm not that fragile." Camilla threw off the blanket, slipped her feet into slippers, and prepared to get out of bed.

Caspian pressed down on her shoulder.

His hand was large and strong, his grip firm.

Camilla tried to pull away.

"Let go."

"Lie back down."

They engaged in a brief tug-of-war in the hospital room.

Camilla was already weak. With just a light push from Caspian, she fell back against the pillow.

Caspian braced his hands on either side of her, completely enclosing her in his shadow.

They were extremely close, their breaths mingling.

Caspian was usually reserved and composed. This was the first time he'd shown such a forceful, domineering side in front of Camilla.

"Camilla, your life is more important than any job." Caspian stared into her eyes, his voice low.

Camilla turned her face away, unable to meet his gaze.

Her life?

She smiled bitterly.

Only she knew what was written on that diagnosis tucked inside her journal.

Terminal.

Less than six months left.

She didn't have time.

If she didn't get the studio up and running soon, if she didn't finish the dream she'd left incomplete in college—

All that would be left of her life was the pitiful label: Theodric's ex-wife.

Camilla turned back and met Caspian's gaze.

Her eyes instantly reddened.

"Caspian, I'm begging you." Camilla's voice was hoarse, filled with barely concealed desperation. "Let me go. That venue is really, really important to me."

Caspian looked at her red-rimmed eyes, and his heart clenched sharply.

He was used to Camilla being tough and composed.

On the day of the divorce, she'd left with nothing and didn't shed a single tear.

When the entire internet turned against her, she went to the kindergarten to play piano, her back ramrod straight.

But now, for a venue signing, she was begging him with tears in her eyes.

Caspian took a deep breath.

He straightened up. He gave in.

"You can be discharged." Caspian adjusted his cuffs, setting an absolute condition. "But I'm coming with you the entire time."

Camilla froze.

"You won't leave my sight for even a second." Caspian looked at her. "That's non-negotiable."

Camilla opened her mouth to refuse.

The Mitchell Group had so much going on every day. How could he possibly spare the time to accompany her to sign a studio contract?

Before she could speak, her phone on the nightstand suddenly buzzed.

Atticus's name flashed on the screen.

Camilla picked up the phone and answered. "Atticus, I was just about to—"

"Camilla! We've got a problem!" Atticus's anxious voice cut her off. "The landlord just called. He said he's not renting to us anymore!"

Camilla's heart sank. "What happened?"

"Someone offered double the price and snatched the contract right out from under us!" Atticus was breathing hard, car horns blaring in the background. "They stole it!"

Camilla's grip on the phone tightened. "Who?"

The line went silent for two seconds.

Atticus spat out a name through gritted teeth.

"Serena."

The next morning, downtown CBD.

A bulletproof Rolls-Royce glided smoothly along the main road, the cityscape flying past the windows.

Camilla leaned back in the leather seat, the bruise on the back of her hand still prominent.

Caspian sat beside her, a tablet on his lap, his fingers swiping rapidly across the screen.

Outside, three black Mercedes SUVs led the way in front and behind. Even more absurdly, a discreetly marked medical ambulance followed at the rear, the Mitchell family's private medical team on full standby.

The whole setup was excessive.

Camilla turned her head. "Mr. Mitchell, it's just signing a venue contract. This is overkill."

Caspian didn't look up, his fingers continuing to swipe. "Dr. Green said you could pass out at any time. The ambulance stays."

"I'm not that fragile."

"Objection overruled." Caspian locked the tablet screen and turned to look at her. "We agreed yesterday—today, you follow my arrangements."

Camilla closed her mouth. She didn't have the energy to argue.

Half an hour later, the convoy pulled up outside the prospective location for Second Decade Studio.

It was a Western-style house with an independent courtyard. Atticus was already standing at the gate with the contract.

A bodyguard opened the car door.

Camilla had just swung one leg out.

Suddenly, a swarm of people materialized from all directions. They wielded cameras and microphones emblazoned with various media logos, shoving forward frantically.

Flashbulbs exploded, blinding.

"Ms. Camilla Lavien! Is it true you abandoned your husband and child?"

A male reporter in black-framed glasses shoved a microphone right in Camilla's face, nearly hitting her nose.

"There are rumors that you coughing up blood at the hospital yesterday was staged! To gain Mr. Mitchell's sympathy—is that true?"

"An insider claims you ignored your own son being bullied at the hospital and instead tried to curry favor with Mr. Mitchell's son. Please respond!"

Each question was sharper than the last, every word cutting.