Chapter 245: I am sorry

Words : 1258 Updated : Oct 11th, 2025

Chapter 245: I am sorry The intimate atmosphere in the room shattered abruptly. Sinclair reached out, pulling his blushing wife protectively against his chest. His sharp, dark eyes narrowed as they landed on Gerald, frozen awkwardly in the doorway, caught between retreat and advance. "What is so urgent that you’d forget your manners?" His voice was low, laced with a chill that seemed to seep into the bones. Gerald shivered involuntarily. He hadn’t expected the CEO to wake up so soon—otherwise, he’d never have dared to barge in at such a moment, even if his life depended on it. What now? Wait—! " President Luther," he blurted, suddenly remembering the person who had arrived with him. He whipped his head around. "Luke said he had urgent matters to report—" His words died mid-sentence, his expression stiffening. The spot where Luke had been standing was now completely empty. Gerald’s lips twitched involuntarily. In that instant, it finally dawned on him why Luke had insisted on dragging him along and making him go in first to report. Damn it, just you wait! Meanwhile, Luke had already stepped into the elevator with an air of nonchalance, leaving the scene behind. Good thing he’d sent Gerald ahead to test the waters—otherwise, he’d be the one in hot water now. Every man for himself, after all. "That unidentified San Francisco number we couldn’t trace before contacting Yoland’s phone again in the early hours. Our team is tracking it now," Gerald said, gritting his teeth in Luke’s absence. There was no way around it—he had to speak up. "Also," he added, lowering his voice, "there’s a group moving in on the hospital under the radar." He kept his head down, his tone grave. "Quite a few of them. I have a bad feeling about this." So, they still hadn’t given up. Camilla’s beautiful eyes narrowed. But who were these people, really? Were they after her—or Sinclair? Sinclair’s narrow, ink-dark eyes narrowed into a dangerous curve, his low and indifferent voice laced with a bone-chilling coldness that sent shivers down one’s spine. "Let them act. Don’t interfere." This time, he was determined to lure out the biggest fish lurking in the depths of the capital. "Understood!" Gerald gave a quick nod and turned to leave the room as if fleeing for his life "Wait." The man’s icy voice cut through the air from behind. Had he failed to escape after all? Gerald froze mid-step, his expression stiffening as he turned back, bracing himself for Sinclair’s next command. "Withdraw the men at the door," Sinclair said, his thin lips barely parting. "No one is to approach without my orders." So it was just about clearing the area. "Understood!" Relief washed over Gerald. He acknowledged the order and swiftly retreated. The room fell into silence once more. Sinclair lowered his head and pressed a tender kiss to his wife’s hair, his dark eyes brimming with warmth. For a moment, neither of them spoke. "Sweetheart," Camilla wrapped her arms around his waist, pressing her cheek against his chest, her beautiful eyes shadowed with unspoken thoughts. "Hmm?" Sinclair gently stroked the silken strands of her hair cascading down her back, his gaze lowered, the emotions in his inscrutable eyes impossible to decipher. "You came to Mileage..." Camilla bit her lip, struggling to voice the question as she looked up at him. "...what was your real reason?" At her words, Sinclair’s eyes flickered imperceptibly. The room grew still again. "What Camilla really wants to ask," Sinclair’s hand trailed from her nape to the slender curve of her neck, his obsidian eyes dark and unfathomable. "...is whether I already knew about the Life bound poison, isn’t it?" The moment the words "Life bound poison" left Sinclair’s lips, Camilla’s beautiful eyes trembled slightly. So he knew after all. That must be why he had the episode. "Sinclair. She raised her head, locking eyes with him with solemn intensity. "I didn’t mean to keep it from you. It’s just—" Camilla hesitated, searching for the right words. Before she could continue, Sinclair cut in, taking over the conversation. Sinclair gently caressed Camilla’s cheek, his voice hoarse and strained. "I would never allow myself to be threatened by Michael." As he spoke, a faint, chilling smile tugged at the corner of his lips. "So you were afraid I’d lose control and kill him in a fit of rage, weren’t you?" There was no denying it—Camilla understood him all too well. Had he known about the life-bound curse earlier, he would have undoubtedly been consumed by the urge to reduce Michael to ashes. Camilla met Sinclair’s gaze and nodded slowly. "Sinclair, I’m sorry." She knew how much he despised being kept in the dark or deceived. No matter the reason, she was undeniably at fault in this regard. "The one who should apologize is me," Sinclair pulled Camilla into his embrace, his voice thick with emotion. "I promised to protect you, yet here you are, worrying for my sake instead." He bent down and pressed a tender kiss to his beloved wife’s forehead. "Sweetheart, I’m sorry." Just those simple words made Camilla’s heart ache unbearably. She shook her head, her beautiful eyes glistening with unshed tears. Sinclair we *will* find a way to break the Life bound Curse. But until then, Michael has to stay alive." She clung tightly to Sinclair, her voice soft yet unwavering. "Promise me, okay? I want to be with you for a long, long time." *For a long, long time.* If only that were possible—he wanted that too. A shadow flickered deep in Sinclair’s dark, fathomless eyes. "Alright." With that affirmation, the heavy weight crushing Camilla’s chest finally lifted. "Sinclair." She wrapped her arms around his neck again, gazing into those endless obsidian eyes with tender sincerity. "I love you." Sinclair’s dark eyes suddenly darkened, his arm tightening around Camilla’s slender waist. "Camilla, say it again." "I love you." "I love you." "I love you." Camilla gazed at Sinclair, her beautiful eyes brimming with playful affection. "Now, it’s your turn." "Rather than words," Sinclair looked at her intently, enunciating each syllable deliberately, "I prefer to prove it with actions." Camilla understood his implication, but the memory of the wound on his abdomen made her protest in a coquettish yet urgent tone. "Sinclair, you’re not in any condition right now! "Oh?" Sinclair arched an eyebrow, his voice low and husky as he repeated her words. His godlike features took on a darker, more dangerous edge. "Seems like my past performances have been... lacking, for you to think that way." Camilla suddenly realized she had misspoken and hurriedly tried to explain. "Sinclair, I didn’t mean—" But before she could finish, the man silenced her with a kiss. Meanwhile, in San Francisco. The clear morning sky had darkened abruptly by afternoon, as if someone had flipped a switch. Towering storm clouds loomed overhead, heavy with the threat of an impending tempest. "Damn it, is it going to rain?" muttered Samson, standing motionless before the floor-to-ceiling windows, his expression icy as he stared outside. The cigar in his hand had burned halfway down, yet he seemed oblivious to it. The sudden shift in weather unsettled him, stirring an inexplicable restlessness. It felt as though something—just like the brewing storm—was about to spiral beyond his control. Just then— * Knock, knock, knock—* * Knock, knock, knock—* The sharp rapping at the door snapped him out of his thoughts. He flicked the ash from his cigar and frowned. "Come in." The moment he spoke, footsteps hurried in behind him.

Chapter 245: I am sorry

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