The black Maybach glided to a smooth stop before the grand gates of the Taylor family estate.
Ramsey swiftly stepped forward to open the rear door, standing attentively at the ready.
Sinclair emerged first—his tall, imposing frame unfolding gracefully from the car—before turning to gently lift Camilla into his arms.
Camilla’s cheeks flushed pink as she glanced at the approaching figures.
This was the Taylor residence, not the Luther Family.
Unlike her husband, she couldn’t remain so composed under others’ curious gazes.
Melissa came bounding toward them, dressed in a fitted black tee and a pleated gray mini-skirt, her face alight with excitement.
"You’re finally here!"
Ever since the incident at the hotel, she found it impossible to dislike Camilla.
And now, with Camilla here to examine her brother’s condition, gratitude outweighed everything else.
Camilla gave Melissa a warm smile and nodded.
Sinclair remained as aloof and indifferent as ever, barely sparing Melissa a glance before looking away.
Melissa was long accustomed to his frosty demeanor.
After all these years, she knew that aside from his wife, Camilla, Sinclair kept everyone at arm’s length—even her own brother.
Mr. Calvin just brought him back from the company."
With a sweet, enthusiastic smile, Melissa nudged Sinclair aside and looped her arm through Camilla’s.
"Come on, sis, I’ll take you in."
A closer look would reveal a hint of ingratiate beneath her cheerfulness.
Recognizing this, Camilla didn’t resist and let Melissa lead her inside.
Left behind, Sinclair watched their retreating figures, his lips pressing into a thin, displeased line.
Apparently, while men couldn’t get too close to Camilla, he needed to be even more wary of these overly familiar women.
From the icy aura radiating ahead, Ramsey could guess exactly what Sinclair was thinking.
Forget women—from now on, even female animals would probably be barred from clinging to the madam. Inside the Taylor Family Estate.
The overall decor exuded a warm and bright ambiance, with cream-colored furnishings dominating the space.
The balcony was adorned with lush greenery and vibrant flowers, radiating vitality.
It was a stark contrast to the Luther Family Estate she had first seen.
Camilla understood immediately. It seemed Taylor truly adored his younger sister, Melissa.
In the living room, two equally distinguished men sat together, deep in conversation—a sight pleasing to the eye from afar.
Camilla glanced at her own husband, a faint smile curling her lips as she mused to herself.
Birds of a feather flock together—there’s truth to that saying.
"Brother, Brother Calvin," Melissa’s voice cut through the men’s discussion.
"Mr. Luther and sister Camilla are here."
In just a short span of time, her form of address had already been upgraded from "Mrs. Luther" to "Sister Camilla."
Taylor’s gaze drifted past his friend and settled on Camilla.
"Sorry to trouble you for making the trip."
No matter how much Sinclair helped him, he never felt the slightest guilt—but Camilla was different.
"You’re my Sweetheart’s friend, which means you’re my friend too.
What’s there to apologize for?"
Camilla’s smile was radiant.
"Besides, I won so much money from you last night.
If I didn’t come today, I’d feel guilty."
Her words drew laughter from the group, lightening the atmosphere in the living room.
Brother, were you guys gambling yesterday?"
Only Melissa looked both confused and displeased.
"Sister Camilla was there too?
Why didn’t you take me along?!"
"Adult matters," Calvin reached out and patted Melissa’s head.
"aren’t for kids to meddle in."
Melissa frowned deeply, her lips pressed into a tight line.
She wanted to argue but held back, not wanting to delay important matters.
In the end, she could only let out an indignant huff.
Just because she was five or six years younger, they always treated her like a child, never including her in anything.
It had been her whole life.
"Camilla, let’s begin."
Sinclair’s voice was calm and measured.
Camilla nodded and took a seat across from Taylor.
"Let me check your pulse first."
Taylor gave a composed nod, gracefully rolling up his sleeve before resting his wrist in front of her.
Camilla placed her fingers lightly on his pulse, her expression focused and solemn.
Sinclair’s brow furrowed slightly as he lowered his gaze to sip his tea.
The others instinctively fell silent, the living room enveloped in stillness.
Seconds ticked by, and Camilla’s frown deepened.
That troubled expression was all too familiar to Taylor.
A faint, self-deprecating smile flickered in his eyes.
As expected, he shouldn’t have held out hope.
Sinclair set down his teacup, his inscrutable gaze darkening.
"Sister Camilla," Melissa’s voice trembled with cautious hesitation.
She was desperate for an answer, yet terrified of what it might be.
Even Calvin, whose eyes usually carried a hint of amusement, now watched Camilla with solemn intensity.
Instead of responding to Melissa, Camilla turned to Taylor.
Let me check the pulse on your other hand."
Taylor hesitated briefly before extending his other wrist toward her.
Camilla placed her fingers lightly against his skin once more.
Her striking eyes, already sharp with scrutiny, now flickered with something deeper—something unreadable.
Being the closest, Taylor saw it clearly.
Yet the meaning behind her gaze remained a mystery.
Five minutes later, Camilla withdrew her hand and met Taylor’s eyes.
Her breathtakingly beautiful face was now etched with icy gravity.
"Is this a good place to talk?"
"Here," Camilla scanned the surroundings, her stunning face etched with icy determination. "Is this a good place to talk?"
Not just him—even Calvin and Melissa were taken aback by Camilla’s unusually solemn demeanor.
Only Sinclair remained deep in thought, his dark brows furrowed.
Taylor seemed to realize something, his lips curling into a faint, resigned smile.
"It’s fine," he said softly, his voice calm but weary.
"I already know how bad my condition is.
Just say what you need to say—I can handle it."
Over the years, he has consulted countless renowned doctors, both at home and abroad.
Each one had examined him, sighed, and shaken their heads in regret.
In the end, they all prescribed nothing more than tonics to barely sustain his failing health.
Hope had turned to disappointment so many times he’d lost count.
Now, all he wanted was to use whatever time he had left to clean up the Taylor family’s mess—and leave it in God’s hands.
In that case, even if death came, he would have no regrets.
Camilla realized Taylor had misunderstood her meaning.
She glanced at the servants nearby, her delicate brows furrowing slightly as she pondered how to phrase her words with subtlety.
Just then, Sinclair’s cool, detached voice cut through the air.