From Prison To My Billionaire's Embrace

Clara POV

"Don't tell me you've married some struggling artist or a debt-ridden student trying to restart your life," Camden scoffed, his voice dripping with disdain, his eyes fixed on my simple sneakers. He looked at me as if my present appearance was a personal affront, a testament to my continued failure.

I felt a strange, detached amusement bubble up inside me. He assumed so much, yet understood so little. My old house, the one he called dilapidated, was sacred to me. It carried the scent of my mother, the echoes of her laughter, and the quiet dignity of her memory. When Christian had learned how much it meant to me, he hadn't dismissed it. He had bought the entire block, every single piece of land surrounding it, just to ensure that my little house, my sanctuary, remained untouched, surrounded by a sprawling, meticulously landscaped private park. He had gifted me the whole estate, a testament to his understanding, his quiet strength, and his boundless love. He knew its true value wasn't in its market price, but in the memories it held.

His opinion, his judgment-it meant nothing to me.

"Camden, why are you getting so worked up?" Hailey interjected, her voice sharp, a hint of accusation in her tone. "What if Clara does have a new life? And a child? She just said she heard a child's voice on the phone." Her eyes, narrowed with jealousy, flicked between Camden and me, deliberately stirring the pot.

Camden's face, usually so composed, tightened. "Hailey, that's quite enough," he said, his voice low and dangerous.

Hailey' s face flushed, and she fell silent, her eyes darting nervously around the car. The rest of the drive to the restaurant was filled with a suffocating tension. Dinner was a stiff, uncomfortable affair. Camden and Hailey picked at their food, their conversation forced and strained. I, on the other hand, ate with genuine enjoyment, savoring every bite of the perfectly cooked steak.

Then, Camden pushed a small, black card across the table towards me. It was a credit card, sleek and metallic. "There's money on it, Clara," he said, his voice flat. "Don't pay me back. And if you need more, I'll make sure it's deposited regularly. For old times' sake. To make up for... everything."

I looked at the card, then at him, a flicker of surprise in my eyes. "Why are you doing this, Camden?" I asked, my voice calm.

He shifted in his seat, his gaze avoiding mine. "It's... it's the right thing to do. To atone for my mistakes. To make sure you're taken care of."

A bitter laugh escaped my lips. "Atonement?" I picked up the card, turning it over in my fingers. "That's quite a change from five years ago, Camden. Do you remember how you left me with nothing but an empty house and a mountain of debt? How you laughed when I begged you for even a fraction of what I deserved?" I looked him squarely in the eye. "Do you think I'm so desperate, so easily bought, that I would take your blood money now?"

I toyed with the card for a moment, then looked at him with a chilling intensity. "If you truly want to atone, Camden," I said, my voice soft but firm, "then you and your mother can go to my mother's grave and beg for forgiveness. On your knees."

Camden's brows furrowed, his jaw clenching. He remained silent, his gaze fixed on the table. He wouldn't do it. I knew he wouldn't. He was too proud, too self-serving. He never truly understood the depth of his actions, never truly cared about the pain he inflicted.

With a dismissive flick of my wrist, I tossed the card back onto the table, where it skittered across the polished surface. I stood, ready to leave.

"Clara, wait!" Camden grabbed my wrist, his fingers surprisingly strong. "Please. Take it. It's for your own good. To start over. You deserve it." His eyes were red, pleading.

I slowly, deliberately, pulled my hand free, my gaze unwavering. "You're crossing a line, Camden," I said, my voice a low warning. "Do not touch me."

He looked at me, his eyes still red, brimming with an emotion I couldn't quite place. "Let me drive you home, Clara," he offered, his voice hoarse.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "My husband will be here any minute to pick me up. Thank you for dinner, though. It was... enlightening." I turned and walked towards the ladies' room, leaving him sitting there, stunned.

When I emerged, I decided to wait outside the restaurant for Christian. I didn't want to spend another second in their toxic presence. As I stood on the sidewalk, a muffled argument erupted from the alley beside the building.

"How could you, Camden?" Hailey' s voice, raw with anger and tears, cut through the night. "How could you give her money? After everything? You just care about her, don't you? Always her!"

"It's none of your business, Hailey!" Camden roared back. "And stop acting like a spoiled brat! You got everything you wanted! My name, my money, my position!"

"Your money?" Hailey's voice rose to a shriek. "Yes, your money! That's all you care about! But I'm your wife! Your wife! And you're still obsessing over her! You gave her a credit card, Camden! A credit card! What am I to you? A glorified nanny for your toxic mother? A breeding mare for your next heir?" Her voice was laced with bitterness, despair. "Do I mean nothing to you?"

Then, a sharp, clear slap cut through the night air. Hailey' s cries abruptly stopped.