Camila furrowed her brow slightly as her gaze fell onto the coffee table. It was cluttered with an ashtray filled like a miniature mountain and bottles of whiskey carelessly tipped over.

Her heart sank.

"Mr. Connor?" she called out softly, her voice barely a whisper, but received no response.

She glanced toward the door of the lounge.

Hesitating for a moment, she set the breakfast she had brought aside.

She pushed open the lounge door and found Connor lying on the bed, his eyes closed and his complexion pale, a look of exhaustion etched across his features.

Standing by the bedside, Camila felt a pang of sorrow seeing him like this.

She gently nudged Connor's shoulder. "Mr. Connor, it's time to wake up."

Connor didn't react, continuing to lie with his eyes shut.

"Mr. Connor," Camila called again.

Slowly, Connor opened his eyes, his gaze foggy as he stared at Camila.

skipped a

"Mr. Connor, David has prepared breakfast for you. Would you like to get up now, or do you wish to sleep a bit longer? It's 8:30 in the

under his

reached out and grasped Camila's

away, but Connor's grip was as tight as a

Connor!" Her

Connor drew

out as she fell next

raced, her mind

on either side of her, his eyes narrowing

lit, and in the shadows, Connor's expression was fierce and predatory,

felt frightened by his

sit up, but Connor's

Camila's voice shook, panic rising within

release her. Instead, he pressed

his breath lightly

shouted, her whole body

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