My Dear Camila Novelas e Histórias

I cut in, feeling a shameful blush cuver my cheeks when two customers who had been searching for books together looked our way. “Oh, don’t mind me,” she waved her veined arms at me before taking my hands into hers. “You’re a very special woman, Camille. I don’t want you to waste your life like I did, looking for the perfect man like I did. The truth is that there’s no perfect man. Just find one you can stand and mold him into your dream man.” “Ok…” I murmured, not sure how I was supposed to respond to that. Thankfully, she patted my cheeks and left me to go back to her office.

I whispered. “You will see Desmond, but I want you to know how remorseful and sorry I am,” he said. “Okay, I have heard you. Can I see Desmond now?” I asked. “We aren't done talking just yet,” he said. “What do you want from me? I have heard your apology, but what is important is that I see my son,” I said. “I want you back, Camila, as my mate, the mother of my children, and my Luna,” he said, and I gasped.

"Please do not try to get me to speak about something I'm uncomfortable with. Can we just dive right into the order of today? I'll see you soon." I picked up my phone instantly and called Cecilia. "Cancel all my appointments today, I will not be coming into work. I need some time with my dear wife." I told Cecilia, who tried to remind me of some meetings, but I ended the call. "I need to be somewhere today, which would take most of my day, but I would try to return as early as possible. I would have loved for us to still honor that dinner by your father." I insisted. One of the things I admired about her was the fact that despite how she wanted to prove that she didn't care about a thing, sh

The soft admission of pain wrapped in a smile too tired to hide it. I welcomed it. No piece of Camila’s past was useless. Every detail mattered. I collected them in my head like puzzle pieces. Every bit of her was precious—even the broken, jagged ones. “She was just six,” her mom said, eyes distant now, somewhere far away. “And she was so… attached to him. Camila was always a little clingy as a kid. Quiet, but full of these big feelings she didn’t know what to do with. She adored her father. He used to carry her everywhere, sing her silly little songs, make her pancakes shaped like animals. She thought he hung the moon.”

Hyde nodded, "Don't be so protective, says the person who materialized out of thin air when Amy was interrupted." Jeremy was speechless. The new song, My Dearest Delusion, was the story of a girl who ran away from her wedding after becoming disillusioned with love, stumbled through her escape, and unexpectedly found her true love along the way. Amy prepared a beautiful, intricately-woven wedding dress, and a pair of white high-heels that were especially suited for running away from weddings.

Kayla’s POV The storm outside deepened, wrapping the cabin in a low, distant rumble. The video still replayed in my mind—Grandma Helen’s face, calm but grave, her voice echoing like a prophecy that refused to fade. “Trust no one with the name Reyes.” Liam’s eyes met mine, a flicker of something unreadable in them. “She didn’t mean me.” His voice was steady, but I could see the slight tremor in his hand. Damien stood near the window, still gripping the phone as if he could pull another secret from it.

She had been doing well at moving forward. Camila knew that. That was exactly why she had sent this. Helena picked up her phone and called Cassidy. Cassidy picked up on the second ring. "Hey. What is wrong." "Why do you assume something is wrong," Helena said. "Because you have a voice and I know it," Cassidy said. "Talk." "Camila sent me a message," Helena said. Silence. "She sent me pictures," Helena continued. "Of her and Damian. Happy pictures. And then a message saying she was sorry for the pain that was caused and she wished me well."

I was about to put my phone down when another message came through. Camilla. My face lit up without thinking. Just the sight of her name brought a warmth I didn’t know I’d been missing. “You home?” the message read. “I’m bringing coffee. And gossip. No arguments.” I let out a breath that almost became a laugh. Six years ago, I met Camilla in La Sereta Nera—a world wrapped in silk and shadows, in rules written in blood and secrets. A dangerous world neither of us chose, but both of us were forced to survive.

He stared at me, devoured me, carved every centimeter of my face as if I were a masterpiece he'd just purchased. "Do you, Camila López, take Luca Vitale as your husband, for better or worse, for richer or poorer, in sickness and in health, until death do you part?" I was silent. The entire church fell quiet. In the front row, my father looked down. Beside him, Sofia was crying again. My stepmother clasped her own hands so tightly. I stared at Luca. His blue eyes didn't blink. "I do," I said. Two words that came out of my mouth like a stranger's voice. Like an actress reading a script she didn't like.

June was different though, but June moved with them and that was bad enough. Camila shook her head with vigor, she was thinking about him when she shouldn't be. "Camila, what is wrong with you? You were getting so emotional back there, don't you want the money anymore?" She asked herself like a scolding mother and she shook off all the guilt. "Yes I want the money and I will get the money." She copied Lev's accent before giggling to herself, she adored it so much but she also heard Russians could be extreme. Well in movies, Konrad looks like he came out of a movie.