Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 164: Margaret’s plans backfired

Chapter 164: Margaret’s plans backfired

"Help!"

The middle-aged woman’s voice on the phone was laced with panic.

"Mrs. Luther, please save me!!"

Sinclair’s refined brows arched almost imperceptibly, his expression icy and detached.

Camilla nestled in her husband’s arms, her crimson lips curling slightly.

"What seems to be the trouble, Mrs. Tamara?"

Though she asked the question, her beautiful eyes already held complete understanding.

"There—there’s someone following my car," Tamara stammered, her voice trembling with fear.

"The road ahead is a dead end."

"If you’re being followed, you should call the police for help,"

Camilla remarked coolly, placing her slender, porcelain-white hand against her husband’s palm in playful comparison.

A hint of amusement laced her indifferent tone.

"Mrs. Tamara, perhaps you’ve dialed the wrong number?"

After all, Tamara had been quite firm when she rejected her before.

Sinclair lowered his gaze to the woman nestled in his arms, a faint smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

Tamara knew the truth.

By the time the police arrived, she’d be long gone—if she even made it that far.

The cars behind her were closing in fast.

And from the way they were speeding up, it wasn’t just about forcing her to stop—they wanted her dead.

"Mrs. Luther, these people must have been sent by that woman Margaret," Tamara said through gritted teeth, pressing the accelerator harder, her voice laced with panic.

"Save me, and I’ll cooperate with you on anything you want.

Anything."

"Have you thought this through?"

Camilla toyed with Sinclair’s slender, elegant fingers, her beautiful eyes narrowing slightly.

Her tone remained unhurried, almost indifferent.

"Once you agree, there’s no turning back."

"I—"

**BANG!**

A deafening crash cut off Tamara’s words, followed by a sharp scream.

"I’ve made up my mind—I’ve made up my mind! They’re trying to kill me!

If you don’t send help now, it’ll be too late!"

Camilla’s fingers stilled.

A slow, crimson smile curved her lips.

"Address."

After hanging up the phone, she dialed Luke.

"It’s time to close the net."

Sinclair’s slender fingers gently brushed Camilla’s cheek, his dark eyes glinting with faint amusement.

"Those people—were they sent by Camilla?"

Camilla’s eyes curved into crescents, a mischievous dimple appearing at the corner of her lips.

"My sweetheart is so clever."

Margaret had indeed sent her own men, but they were merely there to keep an eye on Tamara.

Camilla had no patience for Margaret’s slow-burning game of cat and mouse.

Instead, she had Margaret’s men tied up and replaced them with her own.

And that was how this frantic chase—the one that had Tamara scrambling in panic—had come to be.

"My wife is too brilliant," Sinclair murmured, lowering his head to press a kiss against Camilla’s fair, delicate cheek.

"I’m just basking in your glow."

"It’s rare for you to have such self-awareness," Camilla teased, looping her arms around his neck and lowering her voice to a playful whisper.

"In that case, let me bring you even closer, shall we?"

As she spoke, her crimson lips pressed against his.

The sweet fragrance and tender touch made Sinclair’s dark eyes deepen with intensity.

He reached out, tilting Camilla’s chin upward, effortlessly turning the tables—taking control.

Their lips moved in a slow, intoxicating dance, savoring every lingering moment. ---

Meanwhile, at the Luther Family villa.

"What did you just say?"

Margaret glared at the middle-aged man before her, her brows furrowed tightly.

"The men we sent to the tail of that woman—they’ve all gone missing?!"

"Exactly," the man replied with a grim nod.

"Every line of communication has gone dead."

He paused briefly before lowering his voice to add, "It’s highly likely... something has happened to them."

"Something happened—again?!"

Margaret’s face twisted in fury, her manicured nails scraping against the porcelain cup in her hands, producing a sharp, grating sound.

"Can’t even handle such a simple task—what a bunch of useless fools!"

"What the hell were you thinking?"

Margaret glared at the middle-aged man, her voice dripping with fury.

"All you ever bring me is useless trash who can’t get anything right!"

Lately, it felt like the universe was conspiring against her—nothing had gone her way.

Now, she unleashed all that pent-up rage on the man standing before her.

The middle-aged man’s expression darkened, but he remained silent, enduring her tirade without protest.

His silence only stoked Margaret’s anger further.

" Norris! Are you deaf? I’m talking to you!"

"I heard you," Norris muttered under his breath.

"Then act like a living person and answer me, damn it!"

She snatched a nearby cushion and hurled it at him, her face contorted with rage.

"Tell me, what are we supposed to do now?

Just sit back and watch that old fox steal Jonathan away from me?!"

That woman had barely been around for a few days, and already Jonathan was acting like a lovesick fool.

If things kept going like this, there was no telling what might happen.

She couldn’t stand this situation any longer!!

"Margaret," Norris sighed helplessly as he watched Margaret’s agitated state, trying to calm her down.

"Take it easy.

Don’t lose your composure first."

*Thud!*

Margaret slammed her cup onto the coffee table with force, then glared up at Norris, her voice dropping to a sharp whisper.

"How many times have I told you? Don’t call me that here—are you out of your mind?!"

"What’s there to be afraid of?"

Norris, however, thought she was overreacting.

His eyes narrowed impatiently.

"My men are guarding outside.

No one’s getting close."

Margaret’s icy demeanor didn’t waver. "That’s still not acceptable."

"Oh?"

Norris stared at her, his brows furrowing into a deep frown, his displeasure and scrutiny plain on his face.

"What, after just a few years as Mrs. Luther, you’re already turning your back on me?"

"What on earth are you talking about?"

Margaret felt unnerved under the man’s piercing gaze, her demeanor softening slightly.

"I’m just worried that if anything goes wrong, it might affect Tyler.

Right now, he’s our only hope."

At the mention of Tyler’s name, Norris’s expression eased.

"Don’t worry, that won’t happen," he said in a low, steady voice, his eyes fixed on her.

"The priority now is to find out who’s behind the abduction of our people."

His words made Margaret’s barely relaxed brows knit tightly again.

She had investigated thoroughly—that Tamara had only returned to the country less than a year ago and was barely scraping by.

There was no way she had any hidden backing.

Margaret was under their surveillance, so it couldn’t be him either.

With the most likely suspects completely ruled out, Margaret couldn’t fathom who else could have discovered her scheme against Tamara—let alone intervened to stop it.

"I don’t know," Norris said after a long silence, his tone icy as he stared at her.

"Could it be from the old mansion?

Or perhaps Sinclair and Camilla?"

"That old bastard may not like me, but he certainly doesn’t favor Tamara either.

He wouldn’t act recklessly."

Margaret’s face darkened.

"As for those two little brats, I can’t say for sure, but I doubt it’s them either."

Her narrowed eyes gleaned with icy malice.

"There’s no way they could know everything and stay one step ahead of us."

"Better safe than sorry.

I’ll have someone keep an eye on them just in case," Norris said cautiously.

"The plan for the old mansion is already in motion.

Camilla is skilled in medicine—we can’t let her interfere at this critical moment."

"Mm."

Margaret gave a slight nod, her voice frigid.

"In two days, it’ll be Tyler’s engagement to that wretched Sandra girl.

Once that’s over, everything will fall into place."

Just then, voices echoed from outside.

The two exchanged startled glances.

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