Chapter 10 CAMILA BENNETT

Ava stormed down the hallway, her heels striking the polished marble floors with sharp, echoing clicks. Each step reverberated through the corridor, amplifying the intensity of her anger.

Her face was flushed, a fiery shade of crimson, as the rude woman's words echoed in her mind like a relentless drumbeat. She clenched her fists so tightly that her nails dug into her palms, leaving small, crescent-shaped indentations. She bit back the urge to scream, her frustration boiling just beneath the surface.

"I should have told her off," she muttered through gritted teeth, her voice barely louder than a whisper.

"Nobody has the right to treat someone like that, especially a stranger." She shook her head vigorously as if the motion could dislodge the bitter thoughts swirling inside her. "But why am I even wasting energy on this?" she snapped at herself, feeling the sting of self-reproach. "I'm here for one reason: to save my brother. I can't let this petty encounter throw me off track."

She reached into her pocket, her fingers brushing against the swipe card's smooth plastic before pulling it out. Holding it in front of her, she squinted at the room number printed on it. The receptionist had clearly said the fifth room on the 15th floor. Yet, the card in her hand read the fifth room on the 10th floor. Confusion crept up her spine, sending a chill through her. Had she misheard? Or had the receptionist made a mistake?

She tried to picture the receptionist's face, a worn-out smile stretched across tired features, eyes clouded with exhaustion but tinged with genuine warmth. Could it be that she was simply overworked, struggling to keep up appearances under the pressure of her job? A flicker of sympathy flared up within Ava.

"They probably work endless shifts," she mused, her expression softening briefly. "But who knows if she'll ever get the rest she deserves?"

Snapping herself back to the present, Ava hardened her resolve. She had far more pressing matters to attend to. Problems that weighed heavily on her heart. "Julia told me to keep my cool and focus," she reminded herself, swallowing the lump in her throat. "Get the money. Get out. For Brent."

Taking a deep breath, she approached the room that corresponded to the swipe card's number. As she stood before the door, her heart hammered against her ribs like a frantic bird trapped in a cage. Her hand trembled, frozen mid-air, as waves of fear and uncertainty washed over her, threatening to drown her resolve.

Dread twisted her stomach into knots while the endless list of possible scenarios flashed before her eyes, each more horrifying than the last. A lone tear welled up, escaping down her cheek before landing on her hand with a soft splash. The sensation snapped her out of her spiraling thoughts, jolting her back to reality.

"No," she breathed, her voice barely a whisper. "I can't afford to break down now." Wiping her face with the back of her hand, she steeled herself. Summoning every ounce of courage she had left, she raised her hand and rapped on the door. Silence. She knocked again, harder this time. Still, no response. Frustration and anxiety coiled tighter within her as she pounded the door for a third time.

Suddenly, a voice floated out from inside: warm, smooth, and entirely too calm. "Come in, the door's open."

She hesitated, her hand hovering uncertainly over the handle. Slowly, she pushed it down and nudged the door open, stepping cautiously into the room. Her eyes darted around, scanning every corner. To her surprise, the room was empty.

"Where are you?" she called out, trying to keep her voice steady despite the unease gnawing at her.

"In the shower," the voice responded casually. "I'll be out in a minute."

Ava's nerves frayed further, stretching thin as threads. She glanced around the room, taking in the surroundings with growing awe. The opulence stunned her. Plush carpeting that her heels sank into, richly upholstered furniture that gleamed under the soft, ambient lighting.

Every surface sparkled, from the glass tables to the polished metal fixtures. It was a world of luxury she had never known, a world that was light-years away from her reality. Her gaze fell upon the bed: immense, draped in silken sheets, pillows piled high like inviting clouds.

Her legs wobbled and she had to remind herself why she was here.

"Stay calm," she urged, mentally repeating Julia's advice. "Do what you need to do and leave. You're here for the money. For Brent."

With great reluctance, she forced herself to sit on the bed's edge. It cradled her weight like a warm embrace, the softness almost lulling her into relaxation.

"God," she muttered under her breath, glancing around in amazement. "This man must be wealthy, just like Barry described." Closing her eyes briefly, she offered a silent prayer. "Please, let everything go well. I need to save my brother."

The sudden buzz of her phone shattered the stillness. Ava fumbled to pick it up, her heart racing as she read the new message. It was from Julia, asking how things were going.

"How's Brent?"* she typed back, sidestepping the original question.

A few tense seconds passed before Julia's reply came in:

"He's still in the same state. The doctor is doing everything he can."*

Ava's chest tightened, a vice gripping her heart. "Brent doesn't deserve this. I'll make sure I get the money,"* she replied, determination burning in her eyes.

"I know you will,"* Julia reassured.

"So, how's it going over there?"*

She glanced at the bathroom door, the faint sound of running water filtering through. "I haven't seen him yet,"**Ava typed, her fingers shaking.

"He's still in the shower."*

"Stay calm. Don't let fear control you,"* Julia advised swiftly.

Ava hesitated, rereading the words.

"Do you think I should... join him? If it'll help him give me the half a million?"*

The moment hung heavy, her stomach twisting as she awaited the response. Finally, Julia's words appeared on the screen:

"I don't think that's necessary. You're there for the money, not anything else. Keep your boundaries."*

Relief washed over Ava, though doubt still lingered. "Are you sure that's right?"* she pressed, seeking comfort in her friend's conviction.

"Yes, Ava,"*Julia's reply came firm and unwavering. "Stay calm. You've got this."*

Taking a deep, steadying breath, Ava put the phone down. "I can do this," she murmured to herself, rubbing her sweaty palms on her dress. "For Brent."

Just then, she called out to the unknown billionaire. "Hello, do you mind if I join you?" Her voice was louder, more assertive than she felt.

"No, don't," came the immediate reply, curt but firm.

A wave of relief surged through her. "Alright then," she answered, grateful he had declined. She hadn't truly wanted to.

"So, I guess you are Camila Bennett?" the man asked, his tone laced with curiosity.

"Camila Bennett?" Ava echoed, baffled.

"Yeah, that's the lady I'm expecting," he replied, irritation seeping into his voice despite his attempt to mask it.

Confusion swirled in her mind like a storm. " Did Barry give him the wrong name? No, I don't think so. What if I tell him my real identity? Will he still accept me? I can't lose this opportunity now, not after everything.*

"Camila Bennett!" he barked impatiently from the bathroom.

Ava's heart pounded. "I am, uh..." she stammered, struggling to find the right words.