Chapter 130: Who is she? I found her..

Chapter 130: Who is she? I found her.. Luther Corporation. Sinclair stood before the floor-to-ceiling windows, a cigarette between his fingers. Pale gray smoke curled around him, veiling the inscrutable darkness of his eyes. "How are things with the Porter family?" Ramsey froze, the carefully prepared words catching in his throat. But he quickly regained his composure. "Our informant close to Mr. Porter reports that the father and daughter have been at each other’s throats in the hospital," he said, his voice low and steady. "Grandpa Porter has also called for a doctor. The entire Porter household is in complete disarray." "Not enough," Sinclair exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his obsidian eyes swirling with stormy intensity. "Once the engagement banquet between the Luther and Porter families is over, release *that* piece of news." Ramsey clearly understood what he meant. "Understood." Sinclair said nothing more, the haze before him thickening like an impenetrable fog. Ramsey discreetly loosened his tie, keeping his head bowed to minimize his presence. A few minutes later, Sinclair turned around and crushed the cigarette butt underfoot with deliberate force. "Where is Michael?" His voice was low and rough, devoid of inflection, yet the weight of it pressed heavily on Ramsey. "At the suburban villa under Madam’s name." Sinclair lifted his gaze, his dark eyes locking onto Ramsey’s with piercing intensity. "Camilla’s villa?" "Yes." Ramsey nodded, repeating Camilla’s explanation word for word. Silence once again settled over the office. Sinclair leaned back into his chair, crossing his long legs with an air of effortless elegance. Ramsey didn’t dare look up to gauge his boss’s expression, his body rigid as a taut wire. Just then, a knock sounded at the door. "Sweetheart—" A woman’s sweet, gentle voice floated in from outside. "Camilla?" Sinclair’s handsome brows furrowed slightly, yet the usual coldness in his eyes softened imperceptibly. "Madam!!" Ramsey nearly teared up with relief, though on the surface, he kept his head bowed, not daring to move a muscle. "Calling for reinforcements?" Sinclair turned his gaze to Ramsey, his flawlessly sculpted face carrying a faint, chilling edge. "Ramsey, your audacity grows by the day." "I wouldn’t dare, sir!" A shiver ran down Ramsey’s spine. "Seems to me there’s nothing you wouldn’t dare now." Sinclair pressed the window switch, his low, raspy voice laced with the quiet threat of impending reckoning. "Are you going to open the door, or not?" "Right away, sir! Right away!" Ramsey spun around and hurried forward to swing the door open. "Madam, please come in—" A stunning woman in a form-fitting black cheongsam that fell below her knees walked in, cradling a little girl who looked like a porcelain doll in her arms. Ramsey froze. It had only been half a day since he last saw her—where on earth had Madam picked up a daughter from?! Sinclair’s dark eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the child nestled in Camilla’s embrace. "Camilla, who’s this?" "Found her by the roadside," Camilla replied, her gaze softening as she looked down at the little girl, though a hint of helplessness flickered in her eyes. "Adorable, isn’t she?" Found her? Sinclair studied the tear-streaked, round-cheeked child who was peeking at him shyly from the safety of Camilla’s arms. A resigned sigh flickered through his expression. "Hmm." "Take her to rest for a while first," Camilla said with a faint smile, turning toward Ramsey. "I need to talk to Sweetheart." Ramsey glanced at Sinclair for confirmation. Now you’re asking for his opinion? Sinclair’s eyes turned icy cold. "Listen to my wife." "Yes, sir." Ramsey immediately put on a smile and reached out to take the little girl from Camilla’s arms. "Uncle will take you for cake and toys." The little girl shrank back, avoiding Ramsey’s hand and burrowing deeper into Camilla’s embrace. The rejection couldn’t have been clearer. Ramsey’s smile froze. Was he really that scary? "Auntie has some things to take care of right now," Camilla said softly, gently stroking the little girl’s hair. "Carie Ann, be a good girl and go play with this uncle for a while, okay?" Carie Ann—the name the little girl had written in her palm to introduce herself. The child glanced at Camilla, then at Ramsey, before slowly nodding. Ramsey exhaled in relief and carried the little girl out. The office was suddenly left with just Sinclair and Camilla. "Camilla, come here." "Sweetheart," Camilla was about to explain the matter regarding Micheal to Sinclair. But before she could even begin, she was interrupted. "Camilla," Sinclair gazed at her with deep, dark eyes, though his voice remained gentle. "Come here." "Alright," With a soft smile, Camilla walked over to him, her expression tender. Sinclair reached out and pulled her into his lap, seating her face-to-face with him. Then, he rested his head against the crook of her neck, his dark eyes slowly closing. The warmth of her body and the sweet, refreshing scent of her gradually eased the shadows in the depths of his gaze. "Camilla." The man’s voice was hoarse and unrestrained. "Mmm," Camilla responded softly, waiting calmly for the man’s inevitable questioning. Yet, after a long silence, Sinclair still hadn’t spoken. It seemed she would have to take the initiative herself. "Sweetheart," Camilla leaned in, resting her head against the crook of his neck, her voice tender. "Is there something you want to ask me?" After a brief pause, his deep, gravelly voice sounded by her ear. "Yes." Sinclair lifted his head. "Camilla," His narrow, dark eyes locked onto hers, piercing straight into her soul. "Do you love me?" The question caught Camilla off guard, and she froze for a fleeting moment. "Too slow," Sinclair’s arm around Camilla’s waist tightened abruptly. With an air of undeniable command, he tilted her chin up and captured her lips in a searing kiss. The faint scent of tobacco mingled with his cool, intoxicating fragrance, overwhelming every inch of her senses. Camilla closed her eyes, surrendering to the intensity of his passion. When the kiss finally broke, Sinclair gently traced her cheek with his fingertips, his dark gaze boring into hers. "Camilla," he murmured, his voice rough and unreadable. "Say you love me." Camilla met his eyes, her own dark irises reflecting nothing but him. "I love you," she whispered, her voice soft yet unwavering. "Sweetheart, I love you." She paused, then added with quiet certainty, "One of the most important reasons I exist in this world is to love you." Or, more accurately—to return to it. "Me too." As long as Camilla loved him, that was enough. The storm in Sinclair’s eyes dissipated completely. His sculpted lips pressed a tender, reverent kiss onto Camilla’s forehead. As for other matters...he’d let her be. Their breaths mingled as two hearts drew closer than ever before. "That little girl," Sinclair spoke again, effortlessly shifting the topic, "what’s her story?" Something about the child’s gaze had unsettled him—as if she was seeing right through him to something beyond. Camilla understood Sinclair perfectly. His silence about Micheal meant he’d chosen not to pursue the matter, and she breathed an inward sigh of relief. "She really was abandoned by the roadside," she explained simply, recounting the incident from earlier. "At barely a year old, leaving her at the police station seemed...inhumane." Her luminous eyes held Sinclair’s gaze, shimmering with unspoken appeal. "I’d like to keep her at the manor and take care of her until her family comes to pick her up." The girl’s current terrified expression reminded her vividly of how she herself had been when her parents first passed away, stirring an inexplicable tenderness in her heart. "Alright." Sinclair played with Camilla’s fingers, his handsome face betraying no emotion. He clearly wasn’t the least bit surprised. "Sweetheart, there’s one more thing." Suddenly remembering something, Camilla’s beautiful eyes sparkled with a sudden gleam. Meanwhile. "Damn it!" Arlo swerved the steering wheel sharply to avoid a car that had appeared out of nowhere. "Thud!" The violent inertia sent Tiffany, who had been placed in the passenger seat, lurching uncontrollably to one side, her head smashing hard against the window. As if sensing the pain, she frowned slightly and slowly opened her eyes.