To Remarry The Billionaire

Nine

Camila’s POV

I felt the warm sun on my face, its gentle heat comforting against my skin, as it peeked in through my window.

Right now was one of the times I wished I had magic, or I had one of those expensive rooms where I could just press a button and the drapes would close shut.

My body ached as if I had been through a brutal accident and I was left with aches and all. For all I knew, someone had beaten me to a pulp.

I groaned and stretched even without saying a word or opening my eyes. I just wanted to sleep but the sleep won’t come. It was really just annoying though, that I wasn’t tired enough to take a nap, but not strong enough to do anything other than lying down.

Opening my eyes, I blinked several times until they adjusted to the glaring sunlight. I hated how it shone on my face though, but I was too tired to get up and pull close the curtain. It was a weekend, but I couldn’t even catch some few hours of sleep.

I wish I could do that though, it would have been great for my body, honest to God, and I would have loved to just have that rest.

Unlike Zion who was in the other room. He was sleeping, had been for at least an hour, which I’m glad for because I could have some peace and quiet instead of having to run around playing with him, or shouting for him to stop something.

“That boy.” I whispered, with a silly smile on my face.

He was the life of the party, the energy ball that always got me to play around with him even when I was tired. That was how he was, really, and I love every bit of it.

Above all, he was the love of my life. I just loved how he was with everyone around him, making them smile. He was becoming more and more alike his father, but only in some charming areas, areas I had liked when I first met him officially, until he became the freaking devil.

That wasn’t something I wanted to remember, so I stopped thinking about that and went back to think about my son.

Smiling, I sighed and stared at the ceiling. Above me, the white ceiling seemed to mock me, reminding me of the lost contract to cater for Dorothy’s wedding. “That woman.” I whispered, smiling when I realized it sounded like a follow-up pattern of when I called my son “that boy” shaking my head.

I sighed as I ran my fingers against the soft material of the bedspread beneath me, I could hear the sound of a music playing from the house nearby.

My neighbors had a way of making things all vibrating when they wanted to. If it wasn’t from their boombox, it would be from deep down their freaking throats, if you knew what I meant.

Then, I heard my stomach made a sound and I realized I hadn’t eaten since breakfast, which was several hours ago. I was damn hungry, but I was still too tired to cook something.

Maybe it was better if I ordered something in.

Maybe some spaghetti and meatballs from that place Zion liked. Sighing again for what seemed like several times today, I suddenly felt something, and I couldn't help but sense that something was going to happen. I just wasn't sure what it was or if it was good or bad.

What could it be though? I asked myself, thinking about it for a moment or so, before I stopped when I couldn’t get anything as I had ran the scenarios in my head but nothing popped out.

“I’m too hungry to think about that right now.” I muttered to myself as I looked around the bed for my phone. When I saw it, I grabbed it and ordered for the spaghetti, with extra sauce, just like Zion liked it, and then I closed back my eyes.

Then my phone rang. Wow! That was fast, calling already to confirm my order. “Hello, yes I did order the spaghetti. It’s not some joke.” I said as soon as I picked up the call just to be funny, but what I heard on the other end made me jump up to sit on the bed.

I had just been so tired a moment ago, not even strong enough to get up to close the curtains, or even cook myself and my son anything, but here I was.

I stopped thinking about my son for a moment, suddenly feeling as if the caller would hear my thoughts about him, but then I rolled my eyes mentally at the ridiculous thoughts.

“Oh, so you don’t even cook yourself any food to eat? You just order food? Is it that bad for you?” I heard them say, and I knew who it was immediately.

Of course, I knew who they were when they spoke the first time, but I just confirmed it.

Although, I didn’t have their number saved on my phone, but I sure blamed myself for not opening my eyes to see who was calling. Maybe, just maybe, I would have been able to tell it was my stepmother calling.

Why in the world was this woman calling me? Was her daughter getting married and they were trying to invite me? That was a ridiculous assumption. I was the last person she would have called for something like that.

The only time I remembered Beverly was ever nice to me was those first few months of my marriage, when she thought that Zion might actually really like me. But she had gone back to the sour person towards me when she realized he wasn’t.

Such a shameless woman, never hiding the fact that she only ever wanted to use a person and would use them when they allowed it.

I could hear the snicker at the background, and I knew my step sister was with her. Just what was this call about, because she sure wasn’t trying to give me any good news, I just knew it.

This must be what I was feeling when I said that something was going to happen. Surely this was why I had that sudden feeling of restlessness the other time.

For crying out loud, why was she calling me? What was this about? My heart suddenly jumped to my throat and I wondered if they had somehow known that I had a son.

Oh my God, that better not be it.

If that was the case, I was probably going to faint and slip into a coma, well, not literally but you knew what I meant. I just don’t want them ever knowing about my son. Not for anything in this word. I just can’t cope with her knowing, that was all.

So again, I sent a small prayer up there that it better not be.

Five years ago, when Zion asked for a divorce, I had gone back home, but my stepmother had told me I couldn’t stay there and she had somehow instigated my Dad against me, to send me out, saying there was no place for me there and I had to go back to my husband’s house.

I had begged and explained that it was just for a short while and because I had no other place to go to, I had to stay there for a while, but this woman had had none of that. Instead, she had been the one to push and push at me until I had no choice but to leave.

That was how I had ended up here.

Alone and newly pregnant with nowhere to go, I had come here to this place, three states over just to get away from everything, and everyone, so again I asked, why were they calling me?

“Who the hell is this?” I asked, trying to pretend I didn’t know who it was. If that worked, I was going to surely celebrate with a bottle of…

I heard a chuckle at the background, then I heard Beverly spoke again. “Isn’t that cute, trying to act like you don’t know me.” She said. “That’s the worst acting I've ever seen, you know. Pretending not to know me or recognize my voice.” She added.

The silly woman wasn’t just silly, she was pompous as well as being overly dramatic.

“Well, I don’t. If you don’t mind, perhaps, you can state your name and what business you have with me, then maybe we can talk.” I said, hardening my voice. And then maybe we could just stop talking altogether, and pretend we've got the wrong person at the other end of the call.

That would be preferable.

Beverly laughed again, a sunken, mirthless sound that grated on my already frayed nerves. "I called because your father is sick, Camila. He's not doing well at all, and he's been asking for you," she said, her voice suddenly taking on a tone of feigned concern.

My heart skipped a beat at the mention of my father, but my instinct told me I needed to be wary. Beverly was a master manipulator, and I knew better than to take her words at face value. "Beverly, forgive me for being skeptical, but you haven't exactly been the truthful type in the past. You and I both know how you do your things," I replied, my voice laced with the skepticism I was feeling.

"You don't have to lose sleep over it," Beverly retorted sharply. "Just send money, if you can manage that. It would help us take care of him properly. Or maybe you could ask that ex-husband of yours to chip in," she added, her words dripping with condescension.

This woman was never going to change no matter what, I could just tell. Plus, if she was to change, she would have by now. I would bet my ass she was not going to.

I scoffed at her words, shaking my head in disbelief. "You haven't called me in five years, Beverly. Five years. And the first thing you say to me isn't 'hello' or 'how are you?' It's a demand for money?" I asked, my voice rose slightly with disbelief and a rising tide of anger.

She doesn’t even care how I was living, she just wanted money. I could almost feel Beverly's shrug through the phone. "Would you have preferred I didn't call to tell you your father is unwell?" she asked me, her voice was sharp, challenging even, like she wanted to haul something at me and would have if I was near.

It wasn’t as if I didn’t care about my father’s health, I just didn’t trust Beverly enough to believe her tales. But if she was telling the truth…

"Take him to the hospital," I snapped, my patience wearing thin. "Have the doctors call me with the details. That's the only way I'll believe anything you're telling me." I said and waited, gripping the phone a little too tightly, my other hand pressing against the ache in my temples.

Damn, I was starting to feel my head pound.

Before Beverly could respond, the door to my room swung open, and my son’s voice broke the tension. "Mom, I'm so hungry," Zion complained loudly, his childlike impatience cutting through the heaviness of the conversation.

And just like that, I froze.