Chapter 265
On a biting cold night in late autumn, Cameron found himself huddled by the narrow iron–barred window, his once–proud heart now sinking into a sea of helplessness and loneliness. He stared blankly at the moon outside, the very symbol he once likened himself to. He now questioned if he really was as pure and untouchable as the moon.
“Hey,” called a fellow inmate, tossing a hard piece of bread his way. “I noticed you skipped lunch and dinner. You must be starving. I managed to sneak this for you.”
Only then did Cameron realize the depth of his hunger. He was feeling as if his stomach was glued to his backbone. He cast a disdainful glance at the bread lying on the filthy floor. Was he really expected to eat something so beneath him?
The prisoner shrugged and walked away. Time crawled by, and Cameron’s hunger became an unbearable beast. The weakness from his low blood sugar was a relentless chain reaction. Panic set in, a terrible feeling gnawing at him. It chipped away at Cameron’s resolve, bit by bit. Finally, he picked up the piece of bread and shoved it into his mouth, the coarse crumbs suddenly tasting like the sweetest of treats.
“Ha, thought you were too good for it?” jeered a voice. “Look at you now, gobbling it up like it’s a feast.”
“So, the high–and–mighty Mr. Cameron is no different from a beggar, scrounging for scraps off the ground.”
“Pathetic, just like a stray dog.”
Laughter erupted around him, a chorus of taunts striking him like stinging slaps. His cheeks burned with shame. His heart felt like it had plunged into an icy abyss, leaving him shivering to the core.
He felt exposed, like those beggars under the bridge, an object of mockery for passersby.
A figure approached and sat next to him. Cameron looked up to see the man who had offered him the bread. He had thought the man was kind, so he let his guard down, showing a softer side.
However, the man’s demeanor shifted, his hand landing on Cameron’s face as if petting a dog. “Mr. Cameron, how’s that taste?” he asked, his voice dripping with sarcasm.
Only then did Cameron realize this was all a setup. “You’re mocking me?” Cameron snapped, a mix of anger and humiliation flaring u The man laughed. “I gave you bread to stave off hunger. You ought to be thanking me.”
Cameron’s face turned a stormy shade. “You’re making a fool of me.”
“Making a fool of you? How? I just left the bread on the ground for you to pick up. But Mr. Dawson, remember, I saved you. I’m your benefactor. You owe me your gratitude, not resentment. Isn’t that right?”
Cameron’s eyes widened, the words unnervingly familiar, echoing past actions.
“How do you plan to repay your benefactor, Mr. Dawson? My heart’s not the best. Maybe you could donate yours? Surely, as a man of principles, you understand the importance of repaying debts. It’s just a heart, Mr. Dawson–would you refuse?”
The man’s bluntness laid bare his mockery of Cameron’s past selfishness.
Yet, Cameron found himself unable to muster a retort. His so–called act of kindness towards Nathalie had cost her a kidney, someth he hadn’t questioned until now. Faced with this mocking reflection, he saw how wrong he’d been.
He wished he could just vanish from this place.
The man’s mocking gaze softened, replaced by a look of pity. “Mr. Dawson, I was just teasing. No bread’s worth a heart. Your ex–wif asked me to look after you, so no thanks needed.”
