After finishing her sentence, she didn’t wait for her parents to respond—she just turned on her heel and headed upstairs.
Camila Davis stood by the staircase, her fingers twisting nervously, her face set in a frosty calm.
Melissa George glanced at her, concern etched in her features. “Camila, did you and Jordan have a fight? Or is something else going on?”
It was hard not to notice—they hadn’t greeted each other, hadn’t even exchanged a glance. Something was definitely off.
“No, nothing like that. He’s just been really busy at work lately, that’s all,” Camila replied, trying to sound as natural as possible, not wanting her parents to see through her act.
Her parents exchanged a silent look, but let it drop for now.
Later, when it was time for dinner, the housekeeper went upstairs to call Jordan down to eat.
Jordan, however, declined—said he still had work to finish.
Jerry Davis sat at the dining table, his usual easygoing warmth replaced by a rare hint of frustration. “Does he not want us here?”
Camila gripped her fork a little tighter, forcing a smile. “Dad, don’t worry about him. He’s just swamped with projects lately, skips dinner all the time. Let’s just enjoy ourselves. Here, I made your favorite roast beef—try some!”
Jerry still looked annoyed, but couldn’t bring himself to spoil his daughter’s efforts.
The meal, thanks to little Lillian’s chatter, ended up feeling somewhat cozy despite the tension.
After dinner, her parents took Lillian out to the backyard for a walk to help with digestion.
When they came back inside, they ran straight into Jordan coming down the stairs.
As soon as he saw them, Jordan said, “I’ve booked a hotel for you both, Mr. and Mrs. Davis. The driver will take you over in a bit.”

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