Reborn From Oblivion by Christia Muray

Chapter 265

now questioned if he really was as pure and untouchable as the moon.

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 "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.

exposed, like those beggars under the bridge,

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,

the man's demeanor shifted, his hand landing on Cameron's face as if petting a dog. "Mr. Cameron, how's that taste?"

did Cameron realize this was all a setup. "You're mocking me?" Cameron snapped, a

to stave off hunger. You ought to be

stormy shade.

the bread on the ground for you fon to

saved you. I'm

me your gratitude, not

eyes widened, the words

to repay your benefactor, Mr. Dawson? My

yours? Surely, as a

principles, you understand the

just a heart, Mr. Dawson-would