Jameson called around 9:00 am.

“Camille, I'm waiting for you by the elevator in the underground parking lot. You can come down now.”

Camille grabbed the offerings she had prepared earlier and got into his car.

Her grandmother passed away when she was in her second year of college. Originally, she had planned to bury her grandmother in their hometown.

It was Jameson who bought a plot at the most expensive cemetery in South City.

He said that her grandmother would be buried in South City as it would be too lonely for her grandmother to stay in their hometown alone.

Reluctantly, Camille, under his persuasion, had her grandmother buried at the cemetery in South City.

However, she was about to leave now and would never come back.

Now, her grandmother would be buried alone in South City. She should never have trusted Jameson’s promises.

Camille sat in the car, her tears flowing uncontrollably.

Jameson, feeling heartbroken, stopped the car and pulled her into his arms, gently comforting her, “Camille, darling, don’t cry. Your grandmother knows what you’ve done for her, and she’ll be at peace.”

At that moment, all Camille could think of was his betrayal, yet he was still pretending to be so sincere in front of her.

She closed her eyes tightly, pulled away from his embrace, and said in a hoarse voice, “You're right. I can't make Grandma worry. Let's go.”

Jameson looked at her worriedly. “Camille, did something happen? Your grandmother has been gone for a long time. Why are you so upset?”

She shook her head. “It’s nothing. I just miss her so much all of a sudden.”

Jameson asked a few more times, but when he did not get an answer, he had no choice but to continue driving. “Camille, please stop crying. If you keep this up, I’ll tell Grandma you’ve been naughty. You weren’t feeling well yesterday, and today, you’re crying your eyes out for her.”

Camille lowered her gaze and said nothing.

When they arrived at the cemetery, she took two bouquets of flowers and some candles with her as she got out of the car.

Jameson offered to carry them, but she stepped aside. “I want to give them to Grandma myself.”

The two of them walked up the steps together.

Camille looked at the familiar smile on the photo of her grandmother and felt an overwhelming sense of loss. Kneeling down, she touched the tombstone.

Jameson knelt beside her.

“Grandma, please rest assured. I’ll take good care of Camille and be her support for life.”

Camille did not understand why he still dared to say such things in front of her grandmother’s tombstone.

She took out the bouquets of dried flowers to place them in front of the tombstone.

Jameson grabbed her hand.

“Camille, aren’t these the flowers you arranged for us?”

Camille nodded. “I’m giving them to Grandma so that she can be happy for us too.”

He furrowed his brows. “But you said these were meant for us to use on our wedding day.”

“I’ll make new ones.”

Jameson reluctantly let go, watching as Camille placed the bouquets she had carefully arranged on the tombstone.

A sense of inexplicable panic rose within him. “Camille, are you…”

However, before he could finish, a voice suddenly called out from the cold, solemn cemetery.

“Jameson!”

Both Jameson and Camille turned around to see Sylvia standing not far away.

Her white clothes were a stark contrast to her black hair, making her look unusually fragile.

Jameson frowned as he walked toward her. “What are you doing here?”

Camille tried to ignore them. She took out a small carved house from her bag that she had specifically prepared for today.

She silently said to her grandmother in her heart, ‘Grandma, I’m leaving soon. I’m leaving this house from our hometown as a memento…’

Just as she was about to place the house in front of the tombstone, someone suddenly grabbed it from her hands.

Camille turned around.

Sylvia was holding the small house, tears streaming down her face. “Ms. Fields, this little house looks just like my grandparents' house when I was a child. Can you please give it to me?”

Camille immediately refused without thinking, “No, I carved this for my grandmother with my own hands. Please give it back to me.”

She reached out her hand.

However, Sylvia refused to return it. Instead, she turned to look at Jameson with pleading eyes. “Jameson, when my grandparents passed away, they were still thinking about their hometown. This house really looks like their home. Can you let Ms. Fields give it to me?”

Jameson hesitated for just a moment before saying to Camille, “Camille, give it to her. You can carve another one for your grandmother, okay?”

Camille felt a sudden chill run through her.

When she first learned stone carving, her hands had been covered in cuts from the tools. Jameson had been so heartbroken at the time, telling her that her hands were meant for saving lives, not for such things.

After failing to stop her, he made her promise that this would be the only piece she ever carved and that she would never do it again. Now, he wanted her to give away this stone house, which she had so painstakingly carved, to Sylvia.

Camille lowered her head. “This is for my grandmother.”

Jameson walked over, bent down, and whispered in her ear with a tone of helplessness, “She has cancer and doesn’t have much time left. Camille, please let her have it, okay?”

Camille said, “What if I say no?”

He fell silent.

The air grew cold.

Sylvia clutched her chest and, in a choked voice, called out, “Jameson…”

Without a second thought, Jameson replied, “Yes, Sylvia, you can take it.”

Sylvia broke into a smile, turning to walk quickly toward her grandparents’ tombstone and placing the stone house there.

As Camille looked at the smile in the photo of her grandmother on the tombstone, her lips trembled as she tried to force a smile, but her eyes turned red.

Jameson was saying something beside her, but she could not hear a word.

She just kept thinking about how she had spent so long learning stone carving—sketching drafts over and over, failing again and again. She had put so much effort into preparing the gift for her grandmother.

Yet it was so easily taken by Jameson and given to Sylvia.

At this point, what other decisions would Jameson make for her? What more of hers would he give away to Sylvia?

She thought to herself, ‘Grandma, both you and I misjudged him. But luckily, it’s still not too late. I no longer want this man.’

After voicing her thoughts to her grandmother, Camille got up and walked back like a lost soul.

Jameson stayed behind, waiting until the candles had completely burned before turning to chase after her.

By the time Camille reached the stairs and turned to go down, Sylvia suddenly screamed and rolled down the stairs.

“Sylvia!”

Jameson dashed forward, not noticing he had bumped into Camille. He rushed over to the huddled-up Sylvia, his mind in turmoil and his heart burning with worry. “Are you okay? Did you break your bones? Let me take you to the hospital!”

He lifted Sylvia in his arms without sparing a glance at Camille as he rushed away.

Camille had been knocked to the ground by Jameson. Her right arm had slammed hard against the unyielding steps. A deep gash split open, so deep the bone was visible, and blood instantly poured out, staining the ground.

She inhaled sharply, shivering in pain.

Camille struggled to get up. She clenched her teeth as she walked toward the entrance of the cemetery.

Jameson’s car was already gone.

The cemetery staff saw Camille covered in blood and quickly called a cab for her, instructing the driver to take her to the hospital.

Camille gave a bitter smile.

Even strangers could show such care for her, yet Jameson...

While getting her wound cleaned and stitched in the hospital, Camille sweated in pain, but she did not utter a single word.

The doctor could not help but comment, “Aren’t you afraid of the pain? It's rare to see a young lady so tough.”

Camille gazed out the window.

After her grandmother passed, she had once thought that Jameson would be her support. However, she had already driven him out of her life.

She was alone in this world. Who would she show her weakness to? She could only be strong.

As Camille was about to pay and leave, she ran into Jameson, who was carrying Sylvia with one arm around her.

He walked up to her with a stony face. “Camille, I already told you that Sylvia has cancer and doesn’t have much time left. Why did you still bump into her? Do you know this could’ve killed her?”

Camille looked at the man she had once thought she would spend her life with, feeling a deep sorrow in her heart. “I bumped into her? You believe everything she says, huh? What if I say I didn’t?”

Jameson’s eyes were filled with disappointment. “Camille! It was my decision to give the stone-carved house to her. If you’re mad, take it out on me. Why lash out at a sick person? Where’s your kindness? Your compassion?”

He had already passed judgment, unwilling to accept any explanation from Camille.

Camille felt utterly heartbroken. She turned her head and said in a calm voice, “People who fake being sick to play the moral victim don’t deserve an ounce of my compassion.”

Sylvia sobbed, burying her face in Jameson’s chest.

Jameson furrowed his brows as he looked at Camille. “Sylvia isn’t faking!”

Camille no longer wanted to make him believe her. She replied calmly, “If you say she’s not, then she’s not.”

“You…”

Before Jameson could continue, a voice suddenly rang out from the side.

“Camille?”

Camille turned around to see Ryan standing among a few doctors in white coats.

A smile appeared on her face. “Professor Zach, what are you doing here?”

Ryan walked over. “There’s a patient with a rare disease who was just admitted today. I’ve been invited to consult. Camille, how come you're here? Didn’t you already quit—”

Camille quickly interrupted, “I accidentally hurt my hand. I’m just here to get it treated.”

Jameson also walked over, respectfully greeting Ryan, “Mr. Zach.”

He suddenly pulled Sylvia away from his arms. There was a hint of urgency in his voice as he said, “The doctor says she only has a month left. Mr. Zach, your medical skills are world-renowned. Can you help her?”

Under normal circumstances, almost no one was worthy enough to have Ryan treat them.

The people standing beside him frowned, about to stop him, but Ryan raised his hand slightly.

Then, he looked at his young apprentice, Camille, before observing Sylvia’s face for a moment. He pressed a few points on her body and finally examined the test reports.

After a moment, he frowned. “This is ridiculous. Who made the diagnosis that this woman only has a month to live? She’s not sick. You should get a few more opinions from other hospitals.”

Sylvia groaned in pain and spat out blood.

Without thinking, Jameson said, “Mr. Zach, even if Camille is your apprentice, you can’t lie for her sake, right?”

The tiny hope that had just risen in Camille’s heart was extinguished completely.

She strode forward, her eyes locked on Jameson with a fierce glare. “Jameson! How dare you doubt my professor’s medical ethics?”

Jameson hesitated for a moment but immediately responded, “That’s not what I meant. What I meant is that maybe another check-up would be more accurate…”

Camille no longer wanted to see him. She turned around to Ryan and begged, “Professor Zach, shall we leave?”

Ryan nodded solemnly.

The others immediately followed him, and soon, they all entered the elevator together.

Jameson reached out but could not grab Camille. He turned around to check on Sylvia, then immediately scooped her up and rushed toward the ward.

Ryan looked at his apprentice and sighed. “I see now why you wish to break up.”

Camille remained silent.

He patted her shoulder. “Everything will pass.”

Camille nodded.

Indeed.

That night, when she heard Jameson walk away and watched the video that was sent, she thought her heart would shatter beyond repair.

However, despite the sorrow and pain, she survived.

After enduring enough pain, she got used to it.

Not long after Camille left the hospital, Jameson called. She ignored the call, but he kept calling.

Camille gave a sarcastic smile.

Then, it seemed that Jameson had finally come to terms with the fact that she would not answer his calls anymore, so he switched to sending her messages.

[Camille, I wasn’t questioning your professor. I was just too anxious earlier and spoke without thinking. I apologize to Mr. Zach and to you. Can you explain things to him for me?]

Camille did not reply.

Jameson sent another message: [I personally checked with Sylvia. She really doesn’t have much time left. Camille, please don’t be jealous of a woman whose days are numbered, okay? After sending her off, my future will be yours. I’ve already arranged a time for you to meet my parents—just a month from now. Once you’ve met them, we’ll set a wedding date, and from then on, we’ll be together forever. How does that sound?]

Camille put away her phone and silently answered in her heart, ‘No, Jameson, we have no future together.’

There was no place for him in her future life.

That evening, she saw Sylvia update her social media feed with nine pictures. There was a photo of Jameson bending down to put slippers on her, a photo of him putting a hat and a scarf on her, and a photo of him feeding her…

The last photo was of them cuddling together. It looked like such a warm moment.

Camille thought for a moment and liked the post.

…

The next day, Camille bought a ticket back to her hometown. After several transfers, she arrived in the town just before dusk.

She rented a car to get back to the village.

Years ago, after Jameson took Camille out of the mountains, he donated money to build a cement road to her home.

Camille spent several days cleaning up the abandoned house. Some villagers soon noticed she had returned and came over to greet her warmly. A few kids from the village came to say hi too.

Camille’s hometown was very poor. Not only was the location remote, but it was also lacking in resources.

Even though a road had been built to connect it to the outside world, the place remained impoverished.

As Camille looked at a little girl with cracked skin, she decided that before she left, she would do something for her hometown. She contacted people for donations, but there were no charity organizations in the area.

She tried to reach out to charitable groups and repeatedly mentioned her hometown, Violetwood Village.

When Jameson learned that Camille was trying to find ways to fund education for girls in her hometown, he sent her a message right away.

[Camille, do you need my help? Should I come look for you?]

Camille silently stared at the new photos Sylvia had just posted on her social media feed.

It showed the room that Jameson had personally decorated for them. With bright lights and colorful decorations everywhere, it was obvious this was the room of an affluent, affectionate couple.

Camille no longer felt sad. After calmly liking the post, she put her phone away and focused on what was in front of her.

After many days of work—handling paperwork and signing agreements—Camille finally secured funding for the education of girls in the impoverished mountain area, ensuring it would reach Violetwood Village.

That day, Camille received another message from Jameson.

[Camille, when are you coming back? We’ve never been apart for this long. I miss you. I’ve prepared a surprise for you, and I’m sure you’ll love it. Please come back soon.]

At this point, there were only three days left before Camille went abroad with Ryan.

She still did not reply to Jameson’s message and instead bought a ticket to return to South City the next afternoon. She had already made plans to meet up with friends before leaving.

That night, she received another message from an unknown number.

[Camille, you’re really cheap. Jameson is married now, and you’re still trying to make him think about you? You must like being the other woman, huh? Don’t regret it.]

Camille did not pay it any mind.

However, early the next morning, she received a call from a friend.

“Camille! Jameson is going to mess with your grandmother’s grave!”