Camila thought she'd hit rock bottom when she discovered her husband's infidelity with her own cousin, but that devastating betrayal turned out to be only the beginning - a life-altering accident would soon strip her of her very identity. But when she was forced to fake her own death and assume a new identity, she realized she had been accidentally given a second chance. This new life came with a new discovery that Camila, the once shameful and disgraceful wife of the powerful Miller family, turned out to be a force to be reckoned with, a rival worthy of respect, and a woman not to be underestimated. Not even her husband stood a chance.
View MoreCamilla watched as her marriage crumbled before her eyes. Her cousin Diane stood confidently before the entire Miller family, stroking her protruding belly.
The room fell silent, all eyes fixed on Diane as her gaze swept across the room, locking on Camila briefly before moving on. “I’m carrying the Miller family heir,” she declared. Camila's mind reeled as she tried to process the implications of Diane's announcement. Who was the father? She turned in Lawson's direction, expecting to see shock or curiosity on his face. Instead, his expression was unreadable as he sat silently on the sofa, observing the scene unfold. She kept searching his face for answers, but It was as though he had no care in the world, didn’t care about her reaction or that of his family, and honestly, Camilla couldn’t quite grasp what was going on in his mind. “Lawson, is this true?” Camila asked, trying to keep her voice steady. “Did you cheat on me?” It was an unnecessary question, but Camilla couldn’t help it; she wanted to hear it from him. “ANSWER ME!” her voice flared, taking on a more acidic tone. "Are you going to just sit there and pretend you don't know what I'm talking about?" Lawson remained unfazed, casually leaning back on the sofa. "You owe me the truth, Lawson. I deserve to know if you've been lying to me, if you've been cheating on me." Lawson finally, rose from the sofa and walked over to Diane, who was smiling serenely. "Leave, Diane," he commanded. "Now." Diane's smile faltered, her eyes darting to Camila before returning to Lawson. "Excuse me?" "That's enough, Lawson," Lawson's mother chimed in. "Why should she leave? She has made a declaration that affects this entire family. And you want her to leave when you've already got her pregnant?" Lawson's jaw clenched slightly, but he remained silent. Meanwhile, Camila just stood, feeling like an outsider in her own home. The feeling of being ignored was suffocating, and the fact that her mother-in-law seemed pleased by the news made Camila's blood boil. "Mother how could you? This woman is standing here claiming to be carrying the Miller family heir and you’re......" She paused, taking a deep breath in frustration. "I am Lawson's wife, remember? Your son cheated on me." "Oh, yes, Lawson's wife who couldn't give us an heir. How's that for a wife?" her mother-in-law snarled, her lips curled in disdain. All the while, a triumphant smile was plastered on Diane's face, and Camila felt like an ant being crushed under the weight of their contempt. Her eyes welling up as she stared at Lawson, expecting him to say something—anything at all. But no, he still remained quiet, making her feel like a fool. "So... this is how it is, right? You're just going to stand there and humiliate me? After cheating on me?" Camila's eyes locked onto Lawson's, searching for any sign of defense, any hint of protection. Still nothing. "It's your luck, Camila; Lawson can't just sit back and wait for you to be fruitful. The world doesn't revolve around you," her mother-in-law spat. "You've had years to produce an heir, and what do you have to show for it? Nothing." A cold realization crept over her. She was alone in this. Her husband, her family—they were all against her. Her husband cheated without remorse, so what would happen next? Divorce her? Because that's the possible action she could predict. Would he even bother to fight for their marriage, or would he simply cast her aside like a worn-out shoe? With a deep breath, she blinked back the tears threatening to spill and looked up at Lawson. "Can we talk alone, somewhere quiet and away from the prying eyes?" she requested, trying to keep her composure from breaking. With his hands deep in his pockets, Lawson turned and walked away, expecting Camila to follow him. Camila stared at her mother-in-law briefly, then at Diane before following after Lawson, steeling herself for the conversation ahead. She trailed behind Lawson, her eyes fixed on his back as he led her to their bedroom. Lawson closed the door behind them, his eyes finally meeting Camila's. "Well?" Camila asked, her voice barely above a whisper. "Are you going to explain what's going on?" Lawson's expression remained impassive, but Camila detected a flicker of something in his eyes. Guilt? Regret? She couldn't quite tell. "Explain what?" Lawson asked. "I don’t owe you an explanation." Camila turned speechless as she chuckled in disbelief. He doesn’t owe her an explanation? Really? "So that child is really yours?" she finally responded. "And you feel you have nothing to explain? Or perhaps you forgot you are married to me?" Lawson turned away, irritated by the conversation. "It seems you've forgotten our agreement, Camila," he said, with condescension. "We had a deal. You knew what you were getting into when you married me." Camila's eyes flashed with anger, but she kept her voice steady. "Our agreement was that I'd be your wife, your partner. Not that I'd stand by and watch you cheat on me with my own cousin." "You're being dramatic, Camila. This doesn't have to be complicated." "Complicated?" Camila repeated, her voice rising. "You're having a child with my cousin, and you think this isn't complicated?" "THIS ISN'T COMPLICATED, CAMILA!" Lawson yelled, his composure finally cracking. "This marriage was arranged by my late father as an act of kindness to you. You have no right to question me or my actions. You're just a beneficiary of my family's generosity." She couldn't believe what she was hearing. The man she thought she knew, the man she loved, was telling her that she was nothing but a charity case. "How dare you," Camila whispered, her voice trembling with rage. "I GAVE YOU MY KIDNEY, LAWSON! DON'T FORGET THAT!""Are you kidding me right now?" Camila blurted out, her voice rising in disbelief and a flush creeping up her neck. "You hauled me all the way here for a lecture? About my phone calls? Seriously, you don't want to do this with me, Antonio."Antonio took a step closer, sighing heavily."You've been distant for no reason… that affects me. It makes me wonder what's going on in your head, what you're thinking. And frankly, I don't like being left in the dark."Camila bristled, her arms crossing over her chest. "I told you, I've been busy. And I was processing things. What do you want me to do, send you a daily update on my emotional state?""A simple text back, Camila. 'Busy, talk later.' Or 'Need some space to think, I'll call you.' Something. Anything. Not radio silence."He stopped just a few feet from her, his gaze so intense. "And as for processing… why do you need to process 'us'?"Her gaze faltered, dropping to the floor. "Because it escalated quickly, Antonio. One minute we're in
ONE WEEK LATERCamila squinted, holding a swatch of silk up to the harsh studio light. It was just past 7 PM, and the city outside her top-floor space was beginning to hum with evening traffic.Two months and ten days since she'd returned to Mexico and sixty days since she officially committed to "Cielo," her first independent venture. Sixty days of relentless effort and, of course, the chaotic drama alongside.The studio wasn't yet bustling with a crew. One entire wall was plastered with magazine clippings, hand-drawn sketches, and the rest.A single sewing machine sat on a large cutting table, surrounded by paper patterns and whatnot.Leo, her sole intern, was labeling small boxes of fabric samples on a nearby shelf, humming softly.He'd been recommended to her by Cole. He just wouldn't mind his business, and he ended up helping with small administrative tasks that piled up faster than Camila could tackle them.Today, she was wrestling with a particularly tricky sleeve design for a
TWO DAYS LATER Antonio stared at his phone screen for the umpteenth time, smiling and waiting, hopeful that Rosebud would reply to his text, call him, anything.But it had been over two hours since he sent “where are you” and there had been no answer. Not even an emoji or heart. Nothing.Was she...? No, she promised not to shut him out; in fact, she even made him breakfast after their passionate night, and he had ended up staying with her until noon that day.He scrolled through their previous messages, a faint hope flickering with each one. They'd been good, easy, filled with their usual banter—her sarcasm, her grumpiness even—that’s his favorite part.He had even thought he detected a hint of possessiveness in her last playful jab before he left.So what was happening now? He felt a knot of anxiety tighten in his stomach.Had he pushed too hard? Said something wrong? Or was this just her being Camila—unpredictable and fiercely independent, even when he desperately wanted her close?
Camila woke up with her whole body sore. Her thighs, especially, screamed a dull throb like they'd run a marathon.Groggy, she blindly tapped the bed beside her, expecting to find Antonio, but her fingers met only cool, empty sheets."Yeah, just as I thought," she muttered, a familiar annoyance stirring. Of course, he was gone. Typical. She pulled the blanket off, intending to get up.Ding!It wasn't her phone. Her gaze flickered to the nightstand. Antonio's phone sat proudly, screen down.He wasn't gone after all."Damn it, Camila. Always jumping to conclusions." She smacked her head, and with a groan, she swung her legs over the side of the bed.As her feet touched the floor, they tangled with something solid. She stumbled, a sharp pain shooting up her thigh, and went down with a thud."Antonio!" she hollered, rubbing her sore hip.That shoe! That fucking shoe was Antonio's. How could he be so devious? He'd practically set a trap for her to fall after he'd made her weak-kneed and sh
Antonio froze for a second. His mouth went open, then snapped shut, then opened again. He just stared at her, that cocky grin totally wiped off his face. "Wait...are you for real?" he finally mumbled.Camila nodded, watching him closely. A beat passed, the playful challenge draining from his expression before something soft, something new, flickered in them. He finally got his head straight, leaning back a little. "Okay. That... explains a lot. But..."Camila let out a dry, humorless chuckle. "Glad you're thinking twice. Wouldn't want to hook up with someone so... inexperienced, right?"Antonio frowned. "No, that's... that's not what I was thinking. At all. It's just... I didn't see that coming. Like, ever." He pushed himself up, away from her, and sat on the edge of the bed, raking a hand through his hair. All that urgency from before just vanished.Camila sat up, pulling the sheet over herself, just watching him. The quiet hung heavy between them. "So," Antonio finally said, not
Antonio reached her in three powerful strides. Before she could even blink, he spun her around, her back hitting the door with a soft thud. His lips were on hers a second later, fast and rough, stealing her breath. Her hands flew up, as if she was going to push him away, but he quickly pinned them both above her head on the door, kissing her harder and faster until her head was spinning.She didn't fight him off, not like she thought she would. She just let him take over, kiss her, do whatever. And she had no clue why her words weren't working, weren't having their usual effect. She was going back on everything she said, being totally irrational again.Antonio finally pulled away, and she saw it: the raw hunger, the desperation in his eyes. This wasn't just flirting. This wasn't his usual playful look; it was something else."Should we go inside?" Antonio asked, his voice low and kind of rough.Camila, still breathless and a little dazed, managed to raise an eyebrow. "Are you seriousl
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