Chapter 3

After waiting, a call finally came in from Ronal, and Calvin immediately answered it.

“How is it?” he asked sharply as soon as the call connected. “Have you found her?”

On the other end, Ronal took a breath first. “I’m sorry, Sir. There is no trace at all. Airports, stations, hotels, apartments… everything turned up empty. Madam Camelia is as if she vanished into thin air.”

“What do you mean there’s no trace at all?” Calvin snapped. “Are you joking with me?”

“I’ve deployed all the teams, Sir,” Ronal replied carefully. “There is nothing we could find. It’s as if—”

“ENOUGH!” Calvin cut in harshly. “Are you incompetent, or are you deliberately playing games with me?”

“Sir—”

“I pay you not for excuses!” Calvin’s voice rose. “Find her. Whatever it takes. If by tonight there’s still nothing, you don’t need to work with me anymore!”

The call ended abruptly.

Calvin threw his phone onto the sofa. His chest rose and fell.

Unnoticed, the clock on the wall showed eight in the evening. He had waited all day. There was no sign that Camelia would return.

“Damn woman. You’ve played me,” he muttered.

He stood up, grabbed his jacket, and left the house without looking back. His car drove toward the club he usually went to.

Bright lights and pounding music greeted him. Calvin went straight to the bar and sat down.

“Wine,” he said shortly.

The bartender nodded.

Not long after, several men approached. His college friends.

“Calvin?” one of them raised an eyebrow. “Why do you look so gloomy?”

Calvin lifted his glass and took a drink without answering.

“What about Camelia? Are you going to divorce your wife?” another asked with a small laugh. “Samantha is back, right?”

Calvin set his glass down a little harder than necessary. “Yes, she’s back.”

His friends exchanged glances. “So, you’re going back to your first love?”

“Of course,” Calvin answered coldly.

“Then why are you drinking alone?” another asked. “Where’s Samantha?”

Calvin fell silent for a moment. His hand turned the wine glass slowly. “She’s busy.”

“And your wife?” his friend pressed again. “Have you told her to get lost yet?”

Calvin lifted his chin. “I haven’t divorced her yet, but she already left.”

Several of them looked shocked. “Left?”

“Yes,” Calvin replied quickly. He drank again, this time more deeply. “But I’m sure she’ll come back.”

“Why are you so sure?” one of them asked.

Calvin smirked faintly. “Camelia is just a village girl,” he said in a dismissive tone. “She has nothing. No connections. No money. Do you think she can survive without me?”

One of his friends sighed. “Calvin, but why do you sound like you’re not happy about Camelia leaving? Could it be that you—?”

“Don’t be ridiculous,” Calvin denied quickly. “I don’t love that woman. She’s just a substitute.”

“Then why do you look like this?” his friend asked again.

Calvin turned sharply. “Because I don’t like being played.”

He stood up, lifting his glass slightly. “Listen carefully. Within three days, she will definitely come back. Crying, apologizing, and begging me to take her back.”

His friends fell silent, then one said softly, “What if she doesn’t?”

Calvin laughed shortly, arrogantly. “Impossible.”

He sat back down and finished his wine. Yet the bitter taste did nothing to ease the unease in his chest.

His thoughts returned to Camelia’s face. His hand clenched unconsciously.

“Another drink,” he said to the bartender.

One of Calvin’s friends looked at the empty glasses on the table with concern.

“He’s already had too much,” he whispered to the others. “You all know his stomach isn’t strong.”

“I know,” another replied. “If this keeps up, it could flare up again.”

Calvin remained seated, his back leaning against the chair, his eyes staring blankly toward the bar. His hand lifted the glass again.

“Calvin,” one of them called. “That’s enough. Don’t drink anymore.”

“Don’t tell me what to do,” Calvin replied roughly, then drank again.

His friends exchanged looks. Without Calvin’s knowledge, one of them took out his phone and called someone.

Not long after, the club door opened. Samantha Rose stepped in quickly. Her black dress drew attention, but her expression looked anxious.

“Where’s Calvin?” she asked as soon as she reached the table.

“Here,” one of the men replied. “He’s had too much to drink.”

Samantha moved closer. “Calvin,” she called gently. “Let’s go home.”

Calvin turned his head, his eyes slightly unfocused. “Samantha?”

“Yes,” the woman answered with a smile. “You should go home.”

“I don’t want to go home,” Calvin refused, his speech slightly slurred. “I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Samantha said softly. “You’re pushing yourself too hard.”

Without waiting for an answer, Samantha helped Calvin stand. “Thank you,” she said to Calvin’s friends. “I’ll take him home.”

The car drove away from the club. Calvin leaned back in the seat, closing his eyes for a moment.

“You drank too much,” Samantha said while driving.

“Don’t nag,” Calvin replied shortly. “I’m not drunk.”

Samantha smiled faintly. “You always say that.”

When they arrived at the house, Samantha helped Calvin inside. As soon as they reached the living room, she pushed him to sit on the sofa.

“Sit,” she said. “I’ll get you some water.”

“I don’t need anything,” Calvin muttered.

Samantha turned back and moved closer again. She sat beside Calvin, deliberately narrowing the distance between them.

“Is it true that Camelia has left?” she whispered.

Calvin opened his eyes. “Yes, she’s gone.”

“Isn’t that good?” Samantha said softly. “Didn’t you say you were going to divorce her?”

“Yes, I will divorce her,” Calvin replied coldly.

Samantha raised her hand, her fingers touching Calvin’s face, then sliding down to his chin and neck. “If that’s the case… there’s nothing stopping us now, is there?”

Calvin remained silent.

“Calvin?” Samantha called gently.

She moved even closer. “What if tonight we do it? Haven’t you suffered for three years holding back your desire?”

Samantha’s lips drew nearer. Her breath was warm.

Behind the large living room window, a woman dressed in black stood still. Her face was covered by a mask, her body almost blending into the shadows of the night.

She was Camelia. She witnessed everything.

Her chest felt tightly squeezed. Her breath was caught. At first, her heart wavered. When she heard Calvin looking for her, when she knew the man was angry and restless, Camelia had briefly thought about giving a second chance.

But the scene before her completely shattered that intention.

She saw Samantha move closer and kiss Calvin’s lips. Saw the distance between them nearly disappear.

Camelia clenched her fists beneath her black coat.

“Enough, Camelia,” she whispered to herself. “There is no second chance.”

Her eyes reddened, but no tears fell.

“Calvin does not love you,” she continued softly.

Camelia turned around and walked away, disappearing into the darkness of the night, without looking back.

However, without Camelia realizing it, there was no significant reaction from Calvin. There was no response like when he kissed her lips. No returning touch from Calvin.

“What’s wrong?” Samantha asked in confusion.

Calvin turned his face away. “Stop.”

Samantha fell silent. “Why?”

“I’m tired,” Calvin answered shortly. “Not now.”

Samantha slowly withdrew her hand. Her smile faded, replaced by an expression of dissatisfaction.

“Alright,” she said at last. “Get some rest.”

Calvin nodded, growing more confused with himself. “What’s wrong with me? Shouldn’t I be happy when Samantha kisses me? Why is it like this instead? Why does it feel so empty, unlike when Camelia kissed me?” Calvin muttered.