Swapping a Broken Heart for a New Start novel Chapter 71

Camila Davis stretched her arms above her head and let out a satisfied sigh.

Everything was ready now. In just three days, Mr. Harris would send someone to pick her up—she could hardly wait.

But as she bustled around the house, her thoughts kept drifting back to that psychologist. If she really did get a chance to meet him, how was she supposed to convince him to help Lillian? Someone like him surely wasn’t short on money. And she didn’t have any power or influence to offer.

What if he just said no? The thought made her stomach twist with worry.

After turning it over in her mind a dozen times, Camila finally decided she’d just have to ask outright when the time came. She’d give anything she had—whatever it took.

Just as she was lost in thought, little Lillian came bounding down the stairs, her tiny sneakers thumping against the wood. She ran straight to Camila and called out in her sweet, high voice, “Mommy!”

Camila snapped out of her reverie, scooped her daughter into a hug, and playfully tapped her nose. “Slow down, silly goose! What if you trip and fall?”

Lillian nuzzled into her, trying to charm her way out of a scolding.

Camila was helpless against that look. She just grinned. “Alright, troublemaker, what do you need from Mommy?”

Lillian looked up, her eyes big and hopeful. “Daddy… what does Daddy like Lillian to draw?”

Camila blinked in surprise and only then noticed the sketchbook Lillian was trying to hide behind her back. The newest page was already streaked with color, but clearly abandoned halfway through.

Camila’s heart pinched. She pressed a kiss to Lillian’s forehead. “You don’t have to worry about that, sweetheart. You can draw whatever you want.”

But Lillian was stubborn. “My teacher said… I can learn…”

Camila was a little shocked. She hadn’t expected her little one to take the art teacher’s words to heart.

Faced with that earnest, pleading gaze, Camila couldn’t say no. She grabbed her tablet, pulled up some beginner drawing lessons, and handed it over.

She’d traced them? But even basic tracing was tough for a beginner. Camila herself couldn’t have gotten it so exact.

Yet Lillian had done it—effortlessly.

For a long moment, Camila just stared, stunned. That art teacher had been right: Lillian had real talent.

Just then, Jordan Smith came home from work. He stepped in, tossed his coat on the rack, and started unbuttoning his shirt. He barely glanced at Camila and Lillian—until he spotted the art supplies on the table. His brow furrowed.

Camila caught the look instantly. Her expression cooled. She grabbed the three drawings and laid them out right in front of him.

“Lillian copied all three of these in just two hours,” she said, her voice sharp with pride and just a hint of anger. “Only you would think she’s not good enough. In your eyes, it’s always just arrogance and prejudice. You never see what she’s actually capable of.”

Jordan froze, caught off guard.