Chapter 5
The grand dining room was decked out in elegance, with the head seat at the table conspicuously empty. That was William Garcia's spot, Albert's father.
The last time Camila saw him was at some actress's birthday bash, and now he was probably off at another lover's place.
Camila's eyes scanned the table. Isla's bone china bowl was filled with soup, the silver spoon untouched, clearly waiting for her.
"Camila, you're here."
As she walked in, Michael Garcia and Stella Garcia went quiet for a moment before resuming their meal, acting like she wasn't even there.
Isla looked a bit embarrassed, shooting a reproachful glance at her son and daughter before turning to Camila. "Come, sit here."
Camila sat down calmly and started eating quietly.
"Treating us like we're invisible?" Michael's gold-rimmed glasses slid down his nose, revealing the mockery in his eyes.
"You haven't even married into the family yet, and you're already acting like this. Believe me, if I say a few words to Albert, you'll be out on the street tonight."
Michael and Albert looked somewhat alike, but their temperaments were completely different. Despite wearing glasses, Michael couldn't hide the malice in his eyes.
"Michael, Mom has been pushing for the wedding date for so long, and Albert hasn't reacted at all. It's obvious he won't marry her. She's just a fling."
Stella tapped the table with her wine-red polished nails, her false eyelashes fluttering. "Just think of her as a temporary pet in the house. Calm down."
These two had never been polite to her, their mocking and disdainful remarks always the same.
Camila tasted the food today; it was quite good, much better than her own cooking, so she ate a few more pieces.
Seeing her focused on eating, Michael felt like he was punching a pillow, his anger rising even more.
"Do you think playing dumb will get you through this? I've seen plenty of women like you, trying to use their bodies to climb up. Do you even have the qualifications?"
Stella chimed in, "Michael, why waste words on her? Mom has pushed for the wedding so many times, and Albert hasn't said anything about a ceremony. Clearly, he's using her to satisfy his needs. At least she's cleaner than those outside."
"True, I still remember her in that swimsuit at the fashion show."
Camila's peripheral vision caught Isla's hand pausing as she lifted her coffee cup, the lid clinking against the cup.
This woman was always like this, using a simple "Stop it" to quell all disputes, but never truly intervening.
"Stella," Camila put down her spoon, "I didn't realize my photos left such an impression on you. If you want some tips on maintaining your figure, feel free to ask me."
Stella was half a head shorter than her but much heavier.
Her words left them stunned. She dared to hit Stella's sensitive spot, a bold move.
"You bitch, what did you say?"
Stella was furious, ready to tear her apart.
"Don't misunderstand, I meant no harm. I think Michael and you have misunderstood me. I have no background or status, staying by Albert's side is good enough for me. How could I dream of marrying him? Besides..."
Camila finally put down her fork. "According to the Garcia family tradition, the inheritance always goes to the eldest son, Michael. No one else can have it."
The Garcia family had followed this tradition for four generations, with the eldest son inheriting everything.
Albert had started his own business early on, and his new companies were doing well.
Stella, the only daughter of the Garcia family, had been spoiled her entire life. Unfortunately, she lacked talent and wasn't as attractive as her brothers, drifting aimlessly until now.
"What do you mean by that?"
Camila's eyes sparkled as she turned to Michael. "Stella doesn't need to worry. Someone in this family has the final say."
Stella's fingers turned pale as she gripped her silver fork, glitter from her false eyelashes falling into her soup. "You're talking nonsense. It's modern times; I deserve my share."
Michael, who had been flattered by Camila, looked much better.
"Enough, let's eat. Stop this nonsense."
"Me, nonsense?"
He had started attacking Camila, and now he blamed her for talking too much?
Stella angrily pushed away her dishes, glaring at Michael. "Michael, since we're talking about this, let's be clear."
"The inheritance will be divided into three parts. I won't accept a penny less."
"You're telling me this now?"
Michael was also displeased. "You don't get to decide. Even if the business was handed to you, could you manage it? Besides drinking and hiring male models, what else can you do?"
"Last time, you made headlines for slapping a stripper. You embarrassed the Garcia family."
"Shut up!" Stella flipped her plate, tomato sauce splattering all over Michael.
She grabbed a knife and spoon from the table, ready to attack, but Michael caught her wrist.
As they fought, silverware clattered to the floor.
Isla remained seated, finally raising her voice and signaling the servants to intervene.
Camila stayed aside, meeting Isla's gaze. Isla's eyes held a hint of amusement as she spoke cryptically, "Camila, escort me to my room."
The hallway carpet was custom-made from Nordvalia, thick and solid.
Isla's hand rested on Camila's wrist, her fingers gently feeling her pulse. "This is the first time I've seen you fight back."
"You're not afraid of angering me."
Camila's expression remained unchanged. "I know you won't be angry."
"Oh, why?"
Isla squinted at her, uncertain. Did she know about that matter?
Camila shrugged slightly. "Because a woman who lets herself be bullied can't be a member of the Garcia family."
Isla suddenly laughed, her eyes showing approval. "Indeed, you're smart."
"I hope you stay this smart."
After escorting Isla to her room, Camila breathed a sigh of relief. Indeed, Isla was the hardest to deal with in the Garcia family.
She felt Isla knew her intentions, but she also understood Isla's hidden secrets.
Though they restrained each other, they occasionally supported one another.
Back in her bedroom, Camila picked up her clothes to shower. After some time, her hidden phone in the wardrobe started vibrating.
The water was too loud; she didn't know when Albert had come in.
Until his voice came through the door, "Camila, your phone is ringing. Should I get it for you?"
Camila's heart tightened. The only one who would call at this hour was Clifford, but...
She suddenly opened the bathroom door, steam enveloping her as she rushed to Albert, her wet arms wrapping around his neck, standing on tiptoe to kiss him.
Her kiss was fierce and urgent, with a hint of shower gel's sweetness. Albert's hand had just touched the wardrobe handle when her sudden affection made him pause, then he turned and pressed her onto the cold wall.
"Missed me after just a few hours?"
Camila endured the discomfort, nodding vaguely. "Yes, missed you a lot..."