She Stole My Fiancé So I Married The Prince Chapter 22
“During all those years you struggled out there just to stay alive, you must have thought every day about why your biological parents never came to find you.”
“You must have hated us so much.”
I didn’t answer.
No late understanding could undo a single hunger pang or one wound from the girl I used to be.
My father lay on a care bed in the bedroom.
The once-arrogant Alpha Gerald had wasted away to skin and bone.
When he saw me, he struggled to raise a hand, trying to catch my fingers.
But his mind was already in ruins.
He fumbled beneath his pillow for a long time, then pulled out a few crumpled, low-denomination bills and stubbornly pushed them into my hand.
“Camille, take this and buy some candy.”
“Don’t run off so far again. If you go too far, Daddy won’t be able to find you.”
My mother covered her mouth, tears streaming down her face.
“When Isabella ran, she transferred out the last of our money.”
“I only discovered later, after checking the old accounts, that all these years she’d had the finance staff deduct your living expenses. It’s my fault—I was the one in charge of household spending, but I never seriously looked at your account.”
She took my hand.
“We can’t afford better treatment, and that’s why your father got worse so fast.”
“Yesterday he kept writing your name over and over, saying he wanted to see you. But today he doesn’t even know where he is anymore.”
My mother brought me a stack of paper.
Across every page, in shaky, uneven handwriting, was my name: Camille.
After each one, the same sentence had been scrawled.
Remember to come home.
In my previous life, when my father suffered his stroke, I had been the one by his bedside day and night, taking care of him.