Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 113 - 5 percent of the Porter’s Company shares

Chapter 113: 5 percent of the Porter’s Company shares

"Who dares?"

The man’s icy voice, devoid of all warmth, draped the entire council chamber in a suffocating aura of menace.

Every servant of the Porter family paled instantly, as if the blood had drained from their faces.

Their bodies trembled, frozen in place—not a single one dared to move another inch.

Camilla leaned against Sinclair’s chest, her expression cold and detached as she watched the scene unfold.

"Sinclair!"

Grandpa Porter’s eyes widened in shock, his aged face twisted with terror.

"What—what are you doing?!"

"Since she’s so eager to die," Sinclair leveled the gun at Sandra, his voice a chilling rasp, devoid of any warmth.

"I’ll grant her wish."

The overwhelming killing intent radiating from him sent shivers down everyone’s spines.

Even a seasoned figure like Grandpa Porter couldn’t suppress the panic flashing across his face.

And as for Sandra, trapped beneath the barrel of the gun—her terror was beyond words.

She felt the shadow of death closing in on her, her terrified eyes bulging almost out of their sockets.

She wanted to flee, but her body refused to move.

"Grandpa... save me... Grandpa!"

"Sinclair!"

Grandpa Porter shielded Sandra with his own body, his voice icy and stern.

"You mustn’t act recklessly!"

"Grandpa Porter," Sinclair arched an eyebrow, his entire aura growing even more menacing.

"Do you really think you can stop me?"

He turned to Ramsey and issued a low command.

"Drag that woman over here!"

"Yes, Mr. Sinclair." Ramsey gave a slight nod and motioned for two mercenaries to step forward.

"No, no!!" Sandra sobbed uncontrollably, tears and snot streaming down her face.

"Grandpa, save me..." For the first time, she truly understood the terrifying depths of Sinclair’s nature.

One of the mercenaries blocked grandpa Porter’s path, while the other dragged Sandra ruthlessly by her ankle toward Sinclair and Camilla.

Her loose nightgown had already slipped open completely, exposing her in the most humiliating and degrading manner imaginable.

"Sinclair, you—!!"

Grandpa Porter’s face flushed crimson with rage, his eyes brimming with desperation and helplessness as he turned to Grandpa Luther.

"Grandpa Luther, say something!

Are you really going to stand by and watch Sinclair kill Sandra right in front of us?"

"Grandpa Porter, that boy’s temper is like ice—cold and unyielding," Grandpa Luther replied, his expression grim and unreadable.

"If he actually listened to me, I wouldn’t have aged this quickly."

He paused deliberately before adding with pointed meaning, "It takes the one who tied the bell to untie it.

You’d be better off appealing to the one who holds the real power here."

The one who holds the real power?

Grandpa Porter turned to Camilla, his facial muscles twitching slightly.

"Camilla, I gave you my word, and I’ll keep it.

I won’t let Sandra act recklessly anymore," he said with visible difficulty.

"Tell Sinclair to let her go."

"Grandpa Porter," Camilla met his gaze, her lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach her eyes.

"Are you giving me orders now?"

The old man’s jaw clenched abruptly, his expression darkening to an extreme.

"...Of course not," he forced out, his eyes darting anxiously toward Sinclair, whose gun was once again trained on his granddaughter.

His teeth ground together in desperation.

"I’m begging you."

In that moment, grandpa Porter seemed to shrink, his stooped frame more pronounced under the harsh lighting, his graying hair stark against the shadows.

"Please... ask Sinclair to spare Sandra.

I’ll make sure she complies with your demands."

Camilla regarded him calmly, her delicate face betraying no emotion.

She saw nothing wrong with her stance.

If it weren’t for grandpa Porter’s excessive indulgence, Sandra wouldn’t have become the willful and foolish woman she is today.

Calvin and Taylor exchanged meaningful glances as they observed the elderly man, their expressions tinged with melancholy.

To see a once-great figure reduced to such an undignified state by his own descendant was truly tragic.

Grandpa Luther’s face also darkened with complex emotions.

He still remembered how spirited and formidable his old friend had been in his prime.

Useless descendants—they were the most fatal weakness for families like theirs.

"Sweetheart..."

Just as Sinclair was about to pull the trigger, Camilla grasped his hand.

"Let me deal with her, alright?"

Death would be far too merciful for Sandra.

"Yes, she’s right!"

Even Camilla, in Sandra’s desperate eyes at this moment, seemed like a savior.

Only when death brushed past her did she finally understand true fear.

As long as she could live, she was willing to do anything.

The murderous glint in Sinclair’s eyes paused as he turned his gaze toward Camilla.

After a long pause, he slowly lowered the gun in his hand.

"...Fine."

Whatever Camilla said, he would agree. Seeing Sinclair put down the gun, Grandpa Porter let out a sigh of relief, his body swaying slightly as if he might stagger.

"Now," Camilla looked at Sandra, her delicate and alluring features carrying a faint smile.

"Do I need to teach you what to do next?"

Sandra didn’t answer, a flash of humiliation flickering in her eyes.

Before tonight, Sandra had always believed there was an insurmountable gap between her and Camilla.

Of course, in her mind, she—the esteemed eldest daughter of the Porter family—was the lofty cloud, while Camilla, who had married into the Luther Family through an arranged engagement with no power or influence, was the dirt beneath her feet.

Yet now, the tables have turned completely.

"Do as the terms dictate," Grandpa Porter pointed a trembling finger at Sandra, his voice sharp with anger.

"If you dare act recklessly again, I won’t lift a finger to save you!"

"Grandfather, I understand," Sandra knew grandpa Porter always meant what he said.

More importantly, she was genuinely terrified of the two people standing before her now.

Gritting her teeth, she forced her trembling body to kneel before Camilla. With a trembling hand, she struck her own face.

"I’m sorry! I was wrong!"

"That strength," Camilla’s voice dripped with icy disdain, "shows no sincerity at all."

Sandra’s jaw clenched so tight it ached, her eyes burning with barely contained hatred.

Yet she raised her hand again, this time putting her full force behind the slap.

Each movement sent waves of excruciating pain radiating through her limbs, but she had no choice but to endure.

Sinclair guided Camilla to sit on the sofa, his arm protectively around her waist.

"Speak," grandpa Porter said as servants helped him back to his seat.

His deep-set eyes studied Camilla intently.

"What’s your second condition?"

All he wanted was to end this humiliating farce for the Porter family as quickly as possible.

"Simple," Camilla replied, taking a delicate sip of tea from Sinclair’s cup.

"I demand five percent of Porter Group’s shares as compensation for my emotional distress."

The moment these words were spoken, the entire meeting hall fell into stunned silence.

Shares of the Porter family’s headquarters?

Was that bitch Camilla out of her mind?!

Sandra’s hand froze mid-air, her eyes burning with a mixture of fury and disbelief.

Even Tyler and the other two couldn’t help exchanging glances, their expressions betraying their shock.

Calvin and Taylor studied Camilla more carefully now.

They had assumed her three demands were merely acts of petty vengeance—how wrong they’d been.

Grandpa Porter’s brows knitted tightly together.

After a long pause, he finally spoke in a gravelly voice.

"Family shares cannot be casually divided.

I’ll have our accountants convert this year’s dividends into cash compensation instead."

Though the Porter family couldn’t compare to the Luther dynasty, they still ranked among the elite aristocracy.

Five percent of Porter Corporation’s shares would translate to an astronomical sum in cash.

Camilla’s lips curled into a smile as she delivered her refusal with razor-sharp finality.

"Shares only."