The morning after the rain was unusually fresh and crisp.
When Camilla descended the stairs, she spotted Sinclair and Grandpa Rodriguez sitting in the courtyard.
Dressed in a dark gray suit, Sinclair was engrossed in a financial magazine, his chiseled profile exuding an air of quiet elegance.
Grandpa Rodriguez, wearing glasses, sipped tea while flipping through a newspaper.
The two occasionally exchanged soft murmurs, their conversation light and unhurried.
Bathed in the golden morning light, the scene radiated warmth—a perfect harmony of kinship and love.
Camilla gazed at the table she had imagined countless times, her lips curling into an unconscious smile.
Sinclair sensed her presence immediately, his eyes locking onto her with tender affection.
Noticing his shift in attention, Grandpa Rodriguez followed his gaze and chuckled, closing his newspaper.
"Awake at last?" he teased.
"Sinclair made breakfast for you ages ago. Go on, eat before it gets cold."
His words were dripping with affection for Camilla and clear approval for his grandson-in-law, Sinclair.
"Alright," Camilla nodded obediently, casting a glance at Sinclair before turning toward the dining room.
Sinclair set down the magazine in his hands and turned his head slightly to look at Grandpa Rodriguez.
"The breakfast must have gone cold.
I'll warm it up for her."
Grandpa Rodriguez waved his hand with a chuckle.
"Go on, go on."
Sinclair gave a slight nod, rising from his seat and heading toward the dining room.
Grandpa watched his retreating figure, his eyes brimming with satisfaction.
In the dining room, Camilla sat at the table but made no move to eat, clearly waiting for something.
When she caught sight of that tall, elegant figure, the corners of her lips curled deeper.
"Hug—"
"Alright," Sinclair's thin lips quirked upward, his eyes openly filled with adoration.
With practiced ease, he walked over to Camilla and gathered her into his arms, effortlessly feeding her breakfast with one hand.
His dark, inky eyes gleamed with contentment.
She really had been spoiled rotten by Sinclair.
Sipping the pepper soup he offered, Camilla closed her eyes in satisfaction, a faint smile playing on her lips.
But what could she do?
Some habits, once formed, were impossible to break.
"The people arranged by Stephen should arrive in about half an hour," Camilla said softly, glancing at the time as they finished their meal.
"Mmm."
Sinclair paused briefly while dabbing the corner of her lips with a napkin before resuming the motion.
"Sonia will go in with you."
"Alright."
Camilla nodded, knowing he was prioritizing her safety.
"Sweetheart, don't worry. I'll make sure nothing happens to me—I promise."
"And I promise too." Setting aside the handkerchief, Sinclair cupped her face with his long, pale fingers. His dark, fathomless eyes locked onto hers, intense and unwavering, his voice a low, husky murmur.
"I won't let anything happen to you."
Anyone who threatened Camilla's safety would face his merciless wrath—no matter the cost.
Camilla gazed into Sinclair's eyes, where a tempest of love raged.
Without a word, she pressed her lips to his.
Sinclair only hesitated for a split second before cupping the back of her head, deepening the kiss.
Just then, Luke strode in.
"President Luther, Madam—"
His steps froze mid-stride, his expression stiffening as he took in the scene before him.
"I'll... come back later."
He turned to leave immediately. Now, Luke finally understood what Ramsey had warned him about.
"Stop."
A deep, displeased voice cut through the air behind him.
Luke's body went rigid.
"...Yes."
He just got here.
Surely he's not leaving already?
Camilla noticed Sinclair's displeasure and curled her lips slightly, giving his hand a gentle tug.
Sinclair understood her silent plea. His dark eyes narrowed slightly, the reprimand on his tongue left unspoken—though he still refused to say a word.
Camilla slipped her hand into his palm, their fingers intertwining, before turning her gaze to Luke.
"What's going on?"
Hearing her voice, Luke finally exhaled in relief, though his head remained bowed. "Count Easton's butler has arrived.
His's requesting the presence of President Luther and his wife at Hill Manor for a wine tasting."
His tone grew heavier as he relayed the message.
Clearly, when subtlety failed, they resorted to blatant tactics.
"Wine tasting?"
A flash of understanding passed through Camilla's sharp, dark eyes, her lips curling into a mocking smile.
"An E-country noble, yet so eager to imitate our San Francisco customs—throwing a banquet with ulterior motives."
How shameless.
They really couldn't wait, could they?
Well, that suited her just fine.
Sinclair's expression remained impassive, his long, narrow eyes glinting with a chilling intensity that sent shivers down one's spine.
"Tell him I'll be there on time."
Luke blinked in surprise, momentarily taken aback.
"Sweetheart..."
Camilla tightened her grip on Sinclair's hand, her brows knitting together as she studied his face.
"You're really going?"
"I have to."
Sinclair squeezed her hand in return, the corner of his lips quirking upward as his voice softened.
"Don't worry.
Nothing will happen to me."
Outright refusal would only make Aiston more relentless.
Besides, an enemy in plain sight was always easier to handle than one lurking in the shadows.
Despite his reassurance, Camilla's frown deepened, her unease growing.
Hill Manor was Aiston's territory—there was no way he'd allow Sweetheart to bring backup inside.
Noticing the concern in Camilla's eyes, Sinclair narrowed his gaze slightly before turning to Luke.
"Leave us."
"Understood!"
Luke gave a firm nod and turned to leave.
"Wait," Sinclair's voice stopped him in his tracks.
"Make sure the old man doesn't catch wind of any of this."
Camilla shared the same concern.
Though Grandpa never voiced it aloud, he had always worried about them.
They couldn't let him find out about these matters.
"Understood," Luke nodded solemnly.
"I know exactly what to do."
With that, the dining room was once again left to just Sinclair and Camilla.
"Sweetheart," Sinclair gently stroked Camilla's hand, his voice soft and reassuring.
"For you, I won't let anything happen to myself. I promise."
His deep-set eyes were focused and tender.
"Trust me, okay?"
Camilla gazed at the man's face so close to hers, knowing he was trying to reassure her.
A pang of sorrow twisted in her chest, her eyes brimming with heartache.
Sinclair sighed and softened his tone to comfort her once more.
Camilla knew he had already made up his mind. Biting her lip, she finally nodded in reluctant agreement.
"If anything happens to you, I swear I'll stay in E and never go back.
And I'll even find someone else to—
" Before she could finish, his lips pressed firmly against hers, silencing her words.
"Don't worry," he murmured as he pulled away, his voice low and steady.
"I won't give you that chance."