Henry's POV
The boarding announcement jolted me back to reality. I grabbed my bags and hurried to the gate, making my way to the first-class section.
As the plane took off, I couldn't help but replay the words from the letter in my head.
Was this a ploy by Camila to get money from me? I'd experienced similar schemes in the past, but something about this felt different.
I needed to know for sure. I needed to talk to Camila and get to the bottom of this. I needed the truth.
The plane ride felt like it was taking forever, but finally, we landed in Seattle. I grabbed my bags and made my way through the terminal, my mind racing with possibilities.
Once I arrived at my hotel, I barely took a moment to drop my bags before heading right back out.
I hailed a cab and gave the driver the address Olivia had provided.
The place was called The Evergreen.
As I stepped inside, I was struck by the cozy, rustic atmosphere. The dark wood paneling, the rich mahogany bar, the dim warm lighting it was the kind of place that felt both intimate and secretive. A few people sat at the bar, chatting quietly, their drinks in hand.
Then, I saw her.
Camila sat at the bar, talking to another woman, probably a friend. But my breath hitched when I really took her in.
She looked stunning.
The black dress she wore hugged her curves perfectly, accentuating every move she made. Her dark hair cascaded down her shoulders effortlessly, and her lips curled into a small, amused smile as she sipped her drink. She looked like she belonged in an old Hollywood movie—elegant, seductive, untouchable.
I barely had time to process the sight before a man approached her, sliding into the seat beside her.
My jaw clenched.
I watched as the guy leaned in, offering her another drink. A part of me hoped she'd wave him off, tell him she wasn't interested.
But to my shock, she accepted the drink.
Not only that—she smiled at him. Leaned into him.
I felt my entire body tense.
What the hell was she doing?
She was pregnant, and here she was at a bar, drinking and laughing with some random guy?
My blood boiled as I watched her giggle at something he said.
I couldn't stand it.
Without thinking, I crossed the room in a few quick strides. Before she could react, I grabbed her hand and pulled her up from the stool.
"Hey!" The guy called after us. "You can't just grab her like that!"
Camila gasped, trying to pull her hand away. "Henry! What the hell are you doing?"
I ignored her, leading her straight out of the bar.
"Henry, let go of me!" she snapped, struggling against my grip.
I didn't release her until we were outside, away from prying eyes.
"Listen, Camila," I said, my voice low and filled with barely contained anger. "I don't know what game you're playing, but you're pregnant. You shouldn't be drinking. You shouldn't be flirting with random guys at a bar."
Her expression shifted from anger to shock. "You... You know?"
I nodded. "I know."
She hesitated, then quickly looked away, her fingers gripping her arms as if bracing herself.
I took a deep breath, trying to stay calm. "So tell me, Camila, what the hell was that back there? Do you even care about the baby?"
Her head snapped up, eyes flashing with something unreadable. "I wasn't drinking alcohol, Henry. It was just juice."
I frowned. "Juice?"
She scoffed. "Yes, juice. Smell it if you don't believe me."
I exhaled, running a frustrated hand down my face. "That still doesn't explain why you were cozying up to that guy."
"Because I can talk to other people!" she shot back. "I don't owe you an explanation for every move I make!"
"You do when it involves my child!"
She flinched, her lips pressing into a thin line. Then, after a moment, she whispered, "How did you find out?"
I exhaled sharply, my anger bubbling up again. "You sent me a damn letter, Camila. A letter telling me to relinquish my parental rights. Did you really think I wouldn't come looking for you after that?"
She stared at me, her brows furrowing. "What the hell are you talking about, Henry?"
I clenched my fists. "The letter. Your letter. The one you sent me, asking me to give up my parental rights."
Confusion flashed across her face. "I never sent you any letter."
I scoffed. "Really? Then how did I end up with a letter—signed with your name—telling me to stay away?"
Her expression hardened. "I don't know. But I swear on everything, Henry, I never sent that letter."
I searched her face, looking for any hint of a lie. But all I saw was genuine confusion.
Shit.
Could someone else have sent it? But who? And why?
Q"I'm sorry," I said, my tone softening as I looked into her eyes. "I just... I don't know what to think. I saw the letter, and it had your name on it, and I thought..." My voice trailed off as I realized how ridiculous it all sounded.
Camila's brows knitted together as she processed my words. Her breathing was uneven, her chest rising and falling with the weight of something unspoken. For a moment, I saw something flicker in her expression. Betrayal? I wasn't sure.
"Look, Henry," she said slowly, her voice laced with both confusion and frustration, "I never sent you any letter."
A lump formed in my throat. "If you didn't, then who did?" I asked, my voice tinged with disbelief.
She shook her head, her dark hair catching the glow of the streetlights. "I don't know," she admitted. "But I'm starting to think that this is more than just some random prank. Someone must be trying to cause trouble between us."
"But why?" I asked, still trying to wrap my head around the whole situation. "Who would want to do that?"