Chapter 284
When Camila Harrington walked in with a bowl of millet porridge, Prescott Ellington was already back under the covers, playing drunk again.
He looked exactly the same as when she left—Camila didn’t suspect for a second that he’d been awake.
She pulled up a chair beside the bed, sat down, and started thinking about how to feed him the porridge. Just then, in the dead-silent villa, a crisp ringtone echoed.
It was her phone, ringing from the kitchen.
The place was too quiet—even two floors up, the sound was clear.
Camila set the bowl down and went downstairs.
Lying in bed, Prescott opened his eyes. His pale face carried a dark look.
They finally had a rare quiet moment together, only to have it ruined by some random call.
Who could possibly be calling her this late?
The more he thought about it, the more annoyed he got. With how stunning and capable Camila was, he had no doubt she had plenty of admirers during the three years apart.
Take that guy Ian Stone, for example—Prescott’s gut said

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