Ch. He Sent Me Overseas to Marry Her, I’m Staying Overseas to Never See Him Again 12 He Sent Me Overseas to Marry Her, I’m Staying Overseas to Never See Him Again 12

Chapter 2 

Nora’s heart skipped a beat. She instinctively snapped her phone shut. 

Chase walked toward her, eyes falling on Jamie’s face. He let out a sigh. 

“This… I know what Camila did was wrong. But I’ve already ordered the doctors to do everything 

possible. The blood bank prioritized Jamie too. It’s just… she’s so young, her body couldn’t handle 

it…” 

Nora didn’t respond. She just looked at him with icy, scornful eyes. 

Chase frowned. He wasn’t used to that kind of look. After a beat, he made up an excuse and left. 

Nora knew where he went-off to take care of Camila. 

She hadn’t cared before. She certainly wouldn’t care now. 

Over the next few days, she stayed at the hospital tending to Jamie, but also made a quiet trip back to the Whitmore estate-to clean out all her belongings. 

Day one of the hospital stay: 

Chase didn’t leave Camila’s bedside for a single moment. 

Nora went home and burned every last photo and memento of their years together. 

Day two: 

Chase came to see Jamie for an hour, then rushed out when Camila called. 

Nora went home and shredded the half-finished sweater she’d once knitted for him with care, 

tossed the scraps in the trash. 

Day three: 

Chase came again-this time, with Camila. 

Nora saw everything on the security feed. The two of them, locked in a passionate embrace, kissing and clinging to each other right beside Jamie’s hospital bed. 

That night, she returned to the estate and took photos of every confidential file Chase had kept 

hidden away. 

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Day five: 

Jamie was discharged from the hospital. 

Chase brought Camila back to the Whitmore estate-like nothing had happened. 

“Nora,” he said, “Camila’s injured. She’s weak right now, can’t take care of herself. She needs 

me.” 

Nora looked at him, heartbroken. 

“Chase… have you forgotten our agreement?” 

No matter how wild he got outside, he was never to bring another woman home. 

That had always been her bottom line. 

And until now, Chase had always respected it. 

But this time, he shook his head, his tone laced with irritation. 

“Nora, come on. Camila really needs help. Can’t you just be reasonable? It’s not like she’s bothering you.” 

He paused, then added, 

“I promise, no matter what happens between me and Camila, your position in this household won’t change.” 

“And what if I say no?” Nora said calmly. “I refuse to live under the same roof as your mistress.” 

Chase lost his patience. 

“Then don’t. No one’s forcing you. You know damn well this was never about love. So don’t act like I owe you something.” 

He shoved her aside and slammed the front door in her face. 

Before it closed, Nora caught a glimpse of Camila’s eyes-smug, taunting. 

That night, a storm rolled through the yard, wind and rain lashing the estate. 

Nora stood alone outside with no shelter. She looked up at the second floor-light still on in the 

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master bedroom. The curtains were wide open. 

From the ground, she had a perfect, merciless view of what played out upstairs. 

On the bed, Chase and Camila were wrapped around each other, naked, limbs tangled, bodies 

flushed with heat. 

Once. 

Twice. 

Three times… 

Nora watched their silhouettes move in rhythm, Chase’s hands tender, his eyes soft. Her heart twisted so hard it nearly tore itself apart. 

He used to touch her too-but only once a month. And every time, he was cold, mechanical-as if fulfilling a chore he resented. 

She remembered being pinned beneath him, his hand around her throat, whispering hoarsely, 

“Chase Whitmore… if you really hate this, you don’t have to keep pretending…” 

She never understood. If he hated her so much, why did he keep coming back to her bed? 

But he never answered. 

He just kept going. Again and again. 

Eventually, she stopped asking-because silence hurt less than his lies. Told herself maybe that’s just the kind of man he was. 

Until she saw how he treated Camila. 

Then she finally understood: 

There’s no such thing as a man too cold. 

He just doesn’t warm up-to you. 

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