Swapping a Broken Heart for a New Start novel Chapter 37

Camila Davis felt absolutely drained.

She didn’t even bother reminding him that back when the department was running smoothly, she’d managed everything herself—while taking care of her daughter, no less.

But once someone’s got a bias against you, there’s no talking them out of it. They’re blind to anything that doesn’t fit their narrative.

So what’s the point in arguing? Waste of breath.

She closed her eyes, forcing down the disappointment. “I’m not in the mood for your drama, Mr. Smith. I’m not getting involved in this. Find someone else, please.”

With that, Camila scooped Lillian into her arms and headed upstairs to the playroom.

She tried to shake off her frustration, but it clung to her like a wet coat.

Jordan’s obvious favoritism—always taking Sandra Taylor’s side—felt like a thousand tiny cuts, over and over. Even though she’d made up her mind to let go, the pain lingered. She was still human. Her heart still hurt.

Camila pressed her lips together, not wanting her bad mood to affect Lillian. She swallowed it all down, putting on a brave face.

Just then, her little girl wandered over, her world miles away from adult worries. Lillian pressed close, her voice sweet and gentle: “Mommy~”

Camila tried to sound cheerful. “What’s up, sweetheart?”

Instead of answering, Lillian opened her tiny hand. Resting in her palm was Camila’s favorite butterscotch candy—the same kind she always shared with Lillian when cheering her up.

“Candy… for Mommy. Make you happy.”

Camila’s heart squeezed. She hadn’t realized her daughter remembered those little moments, let alone would turn them around and comfort her.

She pulled Lillian into a tight hug, her eyes stinging. Somehow, just like that, the heaviness in her chest began to lift.

“Thank you, baby. Mommy will eat it,” she said, unwrapping the candy and popping it into her mouth.

Lillian snuggled in, beaming, her face the picture of innocent delight.

She hadn’t spoken to him since their falling out. Their last conversation still rang in her ears:

“Camila Davis, you’re seriously quitting your career for some guy—going into a field you don’t even like? What’s gotten into you? If you go through with this, don’t bother calling me again!”

She hesitated, thumb hovering over the call button.

Finally, she pressed it.

The phone rang, then went straight to voicemail. Maybe he’d hit the wrong button? She tried again.

This time, the call rang and rang. Just before it went to voicemail, someone picked up.

A deep, cool voice laced with irritation came through:

“What do you want, Ms. Davis?”