From Mob Princess to Mugshot Photographer novel Chapter 122

**Chapter 8**

Julian stood there, seemingly lost in time, holding a sandwich that looked as if it weighed a ton in his hands. The expression on his face was one of utter despair, as if the very act of eating had become a monumental task.

“Breakfast,” he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper.

For reasons I couldn’t quite articulate, that simple moment sent my heart racing, an unexpected flutter of emotions that left me feeling oddly flustered and confused.

We settled into a silence that felt thick and heavy, the kind that wraps around you like a fog. Every so often, Rhys’s leg would press against mine beneath the table, an unwelcome reminder of his presence.

With each gentle nudge, I recoiled in disgust, my skin crawling at the audacity of his advances. Yet, instead of retreating, he only grew bolder, as if my discomfort was a challenge to be met with persistence.

Julian continued to chew on his sandwich, his brow furrowed deeply, a storm of thoughts brewing behind those troubled eyes.

Once breakfast was concluded, he excused himself to his study, intent on organizing a chaotic pile of papers that had been neglected for too long.

As the door clicked shut behind him, Rhys and I were left alone in the living room, an uninvited tension hanging in the air.

I casually turned on the television, landing on a reality dating show where a female contestant was facing her ex, who was grilling her about her new date.

“I can’t believe you could fall for someone else so quickly,” he accused, his tone dripping with disbelief.

I bit into a blueberry, the tangy burst of flavor igniting my senses momentarily.

Rhys, his gaze glued to the screen, commented, “Look at her eyes. They’re full of love. Why else would she care about who her ex is with?”

I glanced at the man on screen, feeling a wave of disdain wash over me. “Isn’t he just pathetic? He’s the one who ended things, yet here he is, sulking because she’s trying to move on. What a joke!”

Rhys fell silent, his Adam’s apple bobbing as he processed my words. Finally, he replied, “He’s just worried that she might make bad choices in men.”

I let out a cold laugh, the sound sharp and bitter. “That concern is misplaced, considering he himself isn’t exactly a prize,” I articulated, emphasizing each word for effect.

With that, I decided to leave, but Rhys was relentless, trailing behind me like a shadow.

From some hidden pocket, he produced the silver bracelet I had tossed aside, its surface gleaming under the light like a beacon of unwanted memories.

“Camden, can’t you at least leave me with something to remember you by?” he pleaded, his voice tinged with desperation. “Would I ever do anything to hurt you?”

His brow creased in what looked like genuine distress, and for a brief moment, I found myself at a loss for words.

Did men only come to realize their feelings for their exes after the relationship had ended?

I stepped forward, my intention clear: to snatch the bracelet from his grasp and cast it away once more.

But just then, my phone rang, cutting through the tension like a knife.

It was Lily—she had vanished earlier that morning, leaving us in a state of worry.

Rhys hesitated before answering, the concern etched on his face deepening.

Her fragile sobs echoed through the receiver, a sound that twisted my heart painfully.

“Rhys, I’m so scared,” she cried, her voice trembling. “Can you come find me? There’s a group of men following me—I think they’re the same ones who cornered you last time.”

“They have guns…”

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