There was no way Mr. Luther would ever let Camilla come to harm.

Reassured, Tiffany curled back into her seat. 𝓯𝙧𝙚𝒆𝙬𝙚𝒃𝙣𝙤𝒗𝓮𝓵.𝙘𝙤𝙢

As her tension eased, the pain—both inside and out—came rushing back in full force.

She sucked in a sharp breath, her already reddened eyes welling up with fresh tears. Damn, it really hurt.

Noticing her discomfort, Calvin frowned slightly and pressed harder on the accelerator.

"Those men mentioned you twisted a bath towel into a rope and climbed down from the third floor?" he asked, breaking the silence.

The question successfully diverted Tiffany’s attention.

"Yep," she sniffled, her voice hoarse.

"Pretty impressive, huh?"

She’d picked up the trick from watching *Mission: Impossible*, but what looked effortless on screen turned out to be a nightmare in reality.

"Impressive?"

Calvin arched an eyebrow, his expression torn between exasperation and lingering dread.

"Do you have any idea how high the third floor is?

What if the rope had snapped from the start, or your hands had slipped?"

When he first heard others recount the incident, cold sweat had broken out down his back.

"Of course I knew," Tiffany murmured softly, her lashes lowered.

"It took every ounce of courage I had to do it. Even though I was terrified, if I had to do it again, I wouldn’t hesitate."

"No matter what, I refuse to be a bargaining chip for that wolf in sheep’s clothing, Antonio, to use against Camilla."

Calvin’s heart clenched as if gripped by an invisible hand—a sour, bitter ache laced with something uncomfortably close to jealousy.

Unable to resist, he teased, "Antonio kidnapped you because of Camilla.

Don’t you resent her at all?"

"Why would I blame Camilla?"

At that, Tiffany suddenly lifted her head, her still-damp eyes locking onto the man beside her with startling intensity.

"The only one at fault here is that two-faced monster Antonio.

Both Camilla and I are victims in this."

She took a deep breath, brows furrowing as she pressed on, "Calvin, I’m grateful you came to rescue me.

But I never expected you to say something like that.

Pull over—I’m getting out."

Calvin hadn’t anticipated his offhand remark would provoke her like this.

"Fanny, that’s not what I meant."

Ignoring him, Tiffany began unbuckling her seatbelt with quick, irritated movements.

"Pull over."

With a resigned expression, Calvin turned the steering wheel and brought the car to a stop by the roadside.

In one swift motion, he reached out to stop Tiffany from opening the door, his other hand bracing against the seat beside her.

"Fanny—"

The sudden movement startled Tiffany.

She stiffened against the backrest, her breath hitching as their eyes locked.

The car fell into an abrupt silence.

They were so close—close enough to hear each other’s heartbeat, to see their own reflections in the other’s eyes.

An unspoken tension, thick and undeniable, began to seep into the space between them, catching them both off guard.

Whatever Calvin had meant to say died in his throat.

His gaze lingered on her slightly flushed face before drifting lower, his Adam’s apple bobbing with a slow, deliberate swallow.

Tiffany noticed, her pulse racing so wildly she feared it might leap out of her chest.

Summoning what little composure she had left, she nudged his arm weakly.

"Y-you—just say what you have to say properly..."

Why did he have to be this close?

It was practically criminal. Her stammering words dispelled some of the charged atmosphere.

"Fanny, Camilla is innocent—you know that. I didn’t mean anything by what I said earlier.

It’s just..."

Regaining his senses, Calvin leaned back slightly, putting a few more inches between them.

His eyes, however, remained fixed on hers, earnest and intense.

"I was jealous.

To be precise—I still am."

By the time he finished, his usually languid voice carried a faint, almost imperceptible note of grievance and resignation.

Jealousy.

Envy.

Calvin’s words were practically a confession.

Though not his first time saying such things, Tiffany still felt her breath hitch and her heart flutter uncontrollably.

Her lashes trembled slightly as she met Calvin’s gaze.

"Calvin, I—"

"Fanny," Calvin cut her off gently, as if he already knew what she was about to say.

"Let’s get your injuries treated at the hospital first.

We can talk about everything else later."

Rejection stung, even if it wasn’t the first time. And right now, he didn’t want Fanny to feel burdened.

*Click.

* After fastening Tiffany’s seatbelt again, Calvin started the car and drove off.

Tiffany sat in silence, her breathing steadying—but her heart remained unsettled.

The truth was, what she had nearly blurted out wasn’t a rejection at all.

The living room was enveloped in silence, broken only by the steady, rhythmic ticking of the vintage wall clock.

"Camilla," Antonio glanced at the time, his lips curling into a smile as he spoke.

"It’s time."

His gaze traveled across the dining table, locking onto Camilla with an intensity that laid bare the hunger in his eyes.

"So, have you made up your mind?"

"I have," Camilla knew she could stall no longer.

Lifting her head to meet his gaze, she let the fear and panic from earlier dissolve into an icy calm.

"I can’t bring myself to agree." Antonio hadn’t expected this.

The smile on his lips faded instantly, his eyes darkening with a stormy chill.

"Camilla," his voice dropped low, thick with a dangerous edge.

"Do you realize what you’re saying?"

"Perfectly," Camilla held his stare, her eyes glinting under the light—captivating yet utterly detached.

"Need me to repeat myself?"

At this point, she saw no reason to keep up pretenses.

Antonio stared at the cold, detached Camilla before him, his mind flashing to how she’d smiled so radiantly in Sinclair’s presence.

A dark, twisted shadow crept into the depths of his piercing eyes.

"You’re willing to risk Tiffany’s life just to reject me—all because you can’t let go of Sinclair?"

Fanny will be fine.

The thought flickered through Camilla’s mind with icy disdain, though she kept it to herself.

"That’s right," she replied calmly, her frigid gaze locked onto his.

Her voice was devoid of warmth.

"Sinclair is more handsome than you, richer than you, gentler than you, and far more honorable...

I honestly can’t think of a single reason to leave him for you."

The darkness in Antonio’s eyes thickened, nearly tangible.

His voice, when he finally spoke, was dangerously soft.

"Camilla... Are you trying to provoke me on purpose?"

The low timbre of his words seemed to freeze the air between them. "Given the circumstances, angering you would do me no good," Camilla murmured, lowering her lashes as her tone softened deliberately.

"So turning your head like that just proves I’m telling the truth, doesn’t it?"

"The truth?" Antonio let out a bitter laugh, his eyes darkening with layers of stormy intensity.

"Even if Sinclair were as perfect as you claim, what does it matter now?

Sinclair’s dying anyway.

And you—" His narrow eyes slowly narrowed further, his lips curling into a chilling smirk.

"No matter how unwilling you are, you’ve still ended up in my hands, haven’t you?"

It was clear Antonio had run out of patience.

Camilla remained silent, but her nerves coiled tight beneath the surface.

Beneath the table, her fingers clenched around the diamond bracelet on her wrist.

"Camilla, I wanted to treat you gently—but it seems that’s no longer an option.

" Antonio loosened his tie with a sharp tug, his smile as cold as ice.

"Since that’s the case, don’t blame me for what happens next."