As they walked, Stevie explained, "Mr. Robin Johnston isn't well. He really shouldn't be going out. But he insisted on seeing you, despite his health..."

"That's not my problem," Camila cut him off.

She didn't appreciate Stevie trying to sway her with sentiment.

She wasn't falling for it.

Robin wasn't her grandfather.

He was Isaac's.

She had no right to make choices for Isaac.

Soon, they reached the car.

Stevie opened the door for her.

Camila gave him a glance, then bent down and got into the car.

Robin reclined in his chair, a thin blanket draped over him.

He appeared worn and frail, with noticeable lines on his neck, hollow eyes, and his face dotted with uneven age spots.

It was a sight of Loneliness, a stark contrast to the family joy he should have been experiencing.

Camila, however, felt no pity for him.

In her eyes, he was solely to blame.

"You want me to talk to Isaac, don't you?" Camila said, cutting to the chase. “You're getting old and longing for family."

“Since you've figured it out, will you help me?" Robin's voice conveyed his acceptance of aging and his desire for familial company.

Camila's tone was flat. "Isn't Travis with you?"

“Are you still holding a grudge against me?" Robin's voice was feeble and rough.

"I've let go of the past," she said, her gaze fixed on him. "You made me marry Isaac, fulfilling my father's wishes. But your motives were selfish. You hoped I'd sway Isaac, make him drop his resentment.