The Shells We Shared, Now Washed Away

Camille's POV

After speaking, Kemp shifted his gaze away as if even glancing at me again was a waste of time. He looked just like he did the day we broke up—cold, dismissive, and distant.

The hotel staff, seeing this, immediately shoved me toward the exit.

“Move it! I’ve seen plenty like you, poor but full of pride. Someone helps you once, and you think you can cling to them forever?”

I dodged his hand and shot back, irritated, “I already said, I’ll leave after I find what I’m looking for. And if there’s any damage, I’ll pay for it.”

But he only scoffed, his face twisted with mockery. “Pay? You?” He pointed at the trash bin beside us and continued, “You know what that is? It's a custom-designed piece by an Italian artist worth fourteen grand! Can you afford that? This is a luxury resort hotel. Everything here costs more than someone like you could even imagine!”

He then reached out to grab me again, but Kemp, who had already reached the elevator, suddenly turned around and shouted, “That’s enough.”

He walked over, face expressionless, eyes distant, and asked, “What exactly are you looking for? I’ll pay you whatever it’s worth in cash. Just stop using these pathetic tricks to get my attention. It’s tiresome. I’m not interested in you anymore.”

Wendy quickly tightened her grip on his arm, her smile gentle and gracious. “Camille, we’re getting married. I know you weren’t ready to let go when you two broke up, but you can’t force love. I hope you’ll carry yourself with dignity.”

I gave her a small smile and sincerely said, “Wishing you both a lifetime of happiness.”

Then I crouched back down and continued searching for my son’s shell in the trash.

“What will it take for you to leave?” Kemp’s voice grew more impatient. “Or are you still hung up on that 72,500 I gave Wendy?”

After saying that, he pulled out his phone and tapped quickly.

“Fine. I’ll send it to you now. Just take the money and disappear. Don’t ever show up in front of me again. The only person I’ve ever loved is Wendy. Those two years with you? They were just me running from how I felt about her. This money should be more than enough for you to start fresh. Go find someone who actually suits you. Stop wasting your time on me.”

Suddenly, he paused, his fingers frozen mid-motion. “Your account’s frozen? You’re on the defaulters’ list?”

That was when I realized that he’d tried transferring the money to the old card I used when I accepted his mom’s financial help.

After I got married, I only ever used the black card my husband gave me. Of course, that old card was frozen.

But clearly, in his mind, I’d only gotten worse over time.

First, I was the greedy gold digger. Now, a deadbeat too.

“I don’t need the money,” I said calmly, too tired to explain.

He narrowed his eyes, his voice turning colder. “You’re literally digging through garbage, and you still refuse help?”

I frowned, confused. “We broke up five years ago. We're basically strangers now. Why would I accept help from you?”

After a pause, I added, “Really, don’t send the money. I don’t need it.”

Because if someone found out money came from Kemp, he’d start asking me a lot of questions.

And if he ever uncovered my history with Kemp, he’d be jealous for the rest of the month.

Kemp seemed stunned, then let out a soft laugh. “Camille, don’t get the wrong idea. I was just pitying you. Trust me, I have no feelings left.”

Still, he stared at my muddy, disheveled appearance for a long time, then his expression slowly shifted to guilt or pity.

“You’ve fallen this far. Maybe the breakup hit you harder than I thought,” he muttered. “I suppose I do carry some blame. Is this why you won’t take the money? To keep me feeling guilty?”

Wendy, seeing his mood change, quickly stepped in to comfort him gently.