They Beg For My Return (Camila Jackson) novel Chapter 202

Chapter 202 Giovani Extra Final

People said I was cold and unapproachable, but they didn’t know that before I turned five, I had been a bright and cheerful kid. I loved to talk and laugh, and everyone adored me, whether at school or at home.

Everything changed when my mother passed away, and my father brazenly brought his mistress into our home. After that, I became quiet, withdrawn, and shrouded in gloom.

Back then, I was too young to mask my emotions. I acted purely on instinct, letting my feelings dictate my actions. If I was upset, I’d lash out at his mistress without hesitation.

Once, I pushed her down the stairs, causing her to lose her baby. Another time, I held a knife to her and sneered, “I’m just a kid. Even if I kill you, the law won’t do anything to me.”

She hated me with every fiber of her being, wishing she could get rid of me for good.

At first, she thought dealing with a five–year–old would be a walk in the park. She never expected me to turn my age into a weapon, becoming her worst nightmare.

After the knife incident, she’d tremble and freak out every time she saw me.

Even my father was terrified of me. He knew I wasn’t bluffing–I meant every word I said and was fully capable of following through.

At that time, I was simply trying to protect myself, no matter the cost. If someone hurt me, I’d make sure they paid, even if it meant dragging them down with me.

That unyielding nature of mine was the reason my stepmother never dared to lay a finger on me.

As I grew up, the sharp edges of my personality softened. I learned to hide my emotions, keeping them locked away where no one could see, and people started calling me mature and steady.

To the outside world, I seemed polite and gentle, the kind of man who wouldn’t hurt a fly. But deep down, I knew the truth- when it came to my enemies, I was ruthless, stopping at nothing to get what I wanted.

Even my father’s mistress, who had feared me as a child, became even more terrified of me as I grew older. For a long time, I thought my life would continue in this uneventful, monotonous way.

That was until I arrived in Sancho and met the most important person in my life–Camila. It was through her that I realized just how cruel fate could be to someone.

The first time I saw her, she left an impression I couldn’t shake. She was tiny, almost breakable, like she might crumble if the wind blew too hard. But then, out of nowhere, she boldly asked me for a cigarette.

At the time, I never imagined that our lives would become so intricately intertwined, nor did I foresee how strange and unpredictable fate could be.

From that moment on, we kept crossing paths, and every time I saw her, she was trapped in some dire situation, battered and bruised.

I’ve always been distant, especially with women–I just didn’t have the patience for them. But she was different.

Maybe it was the sheer unfairness of her situation that tugged at something deep inside me, something I didn’t even know existed.

That flicker of compassion sparked something in me–a burning need to uncover the story behind her eyes. Yet, as I delved deeper into her story, I found myself unknowingly falling for her.

Camila was like a work of art, crafted by fate itself–perfect and stunning. She excelled in everything–intelligence, academics, character, and even needle work. She was a true polymath.

But her tragic background severely limited her opportunities. Within those constraints, her brilliance shone brightest in her studies and needle work, the two areas where she could showcase her talents.

If Arthur hadn’t thrown her away, if she’d grown up in the Jackson family with all the privileges and care she deserved, her sharp mind would have undoubtedly made her someone who changed the world, thriving in a broader world.

But Ivanna and Claude, driven by selfish desires, ruined her life, plain and simple.

I couldn’t help but feel for her–it was like her pain reached out and grabbed me. But sometimes, I felt frustrated too. Her biggest weakness was her kindness–it made her too soft, too forgiving.

I hated how her kindness made her bow and s Successfully unlocked! g a family bond that was never real.

If only she had been able to let go of her need for any approval, stopped trying to please them, and fought back fiercely when they hurt her, maybe her life would have turned out completely differently.

In my nearly thirty years of life, she was the most remarkable woman I had ever met. Honestly, who wouldn’t be drawn to someone like her?

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Chapter 202 Giovani Extra Final

But it was her normalcy that made the dysfunction of the Jackson family even more glaring. She was like the only sane person trapped in a madhouse, slowly being driven to the brink. Every single day she spent there was pure torment.

She endured fifteen long years in an orphanage, only to face three years of humiliation after returning to the Jackson family. Later, she was imprisoned for five years.

In her short twenty–three years, not a single day was free from pain or sorrow. Every time I think about what she endured, it feels like a knife twisting in my chest.

After she left, it felt like my soul had been ripped away. I couldn’t eat, couldn’t sleep’ve never fallen apart like this over anyone–not even when my mother passed away.

I thought someone as cold as me would forget her quickly. But a month has passed, and instead of fading, her image has only grown clearer in my mind. The more time goes by, the deeper my longing for her becomes.

Whenever I stood in the living room, my eyes would always drift to the sofa by the floor–to–ceiling window. Camila loved lying there, soaking up the sunlight.

She was so delicate that she’d often fall asleep without realizing it, curled up like a tiny ball. The sunlight spilled over her, melting into her skin and cloaking her in a warm, golden glow.

Every time I saw her like that, I’d just stand there, watching her for what felt like forever.

Just looking at her brought me a sense of peace I couldn’t find anywhere else, as if all the chaos in the world had nothing to do with me. But now, that serene and harmonious scene is gone forever.

In the month since Camila left, every second has felt like being trapped in a living nightmare. I can’t help but wonder if I’ll ever crawl out of this abyss of torment.

When I found out that Camila and I had a daughter, I was completely floored. The most intimate moment we ever shared was just a fleeting kiss–nothing more. There was no other connection between us.

But fate has a way of playing tricks on people. Despite that, we had a child. It felt like the universe was toying with us. Before we even truly met, our child had already come into this world, completely unbeknownst to us.

I named her Natalie-“longing.” With her, I found a reason to keep going, a light in the darkness that had consumed me. I’ve never been particularly fond of children, but Natalie was different. Maybe it was her face, so much like Camila’s, or maybe it was the natural bond between a father and his daughter. Whatever it was, she became my everything.

As Natalie grew, she became more and more like her mother. She inherited Camila’s beauty but was taller and more graceful.

She had her mother’s brilliance but was fortunate enough to finish college and take over the Campbell Group, something Camila never had the chance to do.

Watching Natalie grow, I poured all my love into her, giving her all the warmth and care that her mother had never received. Everything Camila deserved but never got, I made sure Natalie had it all.

If there’s a next life, I hope I can meet Camila earlier, protect her, love her, and never let her suffer again.

I truly believe that if she had grown up in a loving family, with her talent and determination, her future would have been even more extraordinary.

Fifty years have slipped away in the blink of an eye.

Now, nearing eighty, my body is frail, and my health is steadily declining. I sit quietly in the garden’s rocking chair, clutching the Majestic Bloom needlework she embroidered so many years ago.

The warm sunlight bathes my face as I slowly open my clouded eyes. Through the blur, I seem to see her–Camila, just as she was at twenty–three.

Her smile is as sweet and captivating as ever. She reaches out to me, her voice soft and gentle, “Mr. Campbell, I’ve come to take you home.”

A faint smile spreads across my face. Without hesitation, I reach out, summoning every ounce of strength left in me to hold her hand tightly, unwilling to let go.

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