Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 169: Tamara’s call

Chapter 169: Tamara’s call

They really were in a meeting. Camilla noticed the projector in the center of the study, a mischievous glint flashing in her eyes.

"Honey, I’m starving," she said, walking over with her back to the others, her beautiful eyes curved into crescents as she gazed tenderly at Sinclair.

"Could you make me something to eat?

I want it made by your hands."

She had already made up her mind.

If Sinclair refused, she wouldn’t let him into the bedroom tonight—let him go hungry for once.

But if he agreed, his subordinates would surely see him in a whole new light.

She was curious to see what he would choose.

The managers pretended to busy themselves, lowering their heads, but their ears were perked up, waiting to see how Sinclair would react.

"Alright,"

Sinclair replied, his lips curving slightly as he turned his gaze back to the screen and said calmly, "Meeting adjourned."

The executives: ?!!

They all looked up in astonishment, unable to hide their shock.

Cooking for his wife instead of working?

If they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes, they would have doubted whether the man on the screen was really President Luther.

Camilla was also slightly surprised.

Not even a moment of hesitation?

Did sweetheart not care how his subordinates perceived him?

The video conference ended.

Sinclair rose from his seat, wrapping an arm around Camilla’s slender waist as they headed downstairs together.

"Let’s go."

"Sweetheart,"

Camilla murmured, thinking her husband was far too indulgent.

"You agreed just like that?"

"All you have to do is ask," Sinclair replied, lowering his head to press a kiss against the soft crown of her hair.

A faint, amused smirk curled at the corners of his lips.

"Anything but cooking would be fine."

"Just cooking will do!"

Camilla caught the underlying meaning in the man’s words and gave him a light pat, her eyes crinkling with amusement as she teased,

"But sweetheart, aren’t you worried they’ll mistake you for a devoted husband, agreeing so quickly?"

Devoted husband. Sinclair’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, his voice calm and measured.

"I’m not."

"I know you’re not, but they don’t,"

Camilla tilted her head up, her sparkling eyes brimming with mischief.

"What if word gets around and your reputation

Before she could finish, the man’s voice cut in.

"Camilla."

Sinclair stopped walking, lowering his gaze to meet hers, a quiet laugh in his voice.

"What I meant was—it’s not a misunderstanding."

Not a misunderstanding?

Camilla’s beautiful eyes widened slightly as realization dawned on her.

So sweetheart was admitting he’s a devoted husband?

"Let’s go," Sinclair effortlessly scooped his petite wife into his arms and continued downstairs.

"My queen,"

His deep, velvety voice whispered against Camilla’s ear, laced with an intoxicating sweetness that made her heart flutter uncontrollably.

A rosy blush spread across her cheeks.

The household staff in the living room immediately took the hint and discreetly retreated outside.

Such scenes were becoming almost routine for them.

Sinclair gently settled Camilla onto the sofa before casually shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it aside.

"Wait here for me. Won’t be long."

"Okay," Camilla’s eyes crinkled into crescents, her dimpled smile radiating pure delight.

Rolling up his sleeves, Sinclair strode into the kitchen with practiced ease, methodically gathering ingredients as he prepared to cook.

Even amidst the homely chaos of the kitchen, he maintained that aristocratic aloofness—an untouchable prince who seemed to transcend his surroundings.

Of course, except for Camilla.

Both physically and spiritually, they were a perfect match. In the living room, the sudden buzz of a phone broke the silence.

Camilla reluctantly tore her gaze away from her husband and glanced down at the screen.

A moment later, the corners of her lips curled into a chilling smirk.

Reconciliation?

Not a chance.

"Mrs. Luther?"

Tamara’s frail voice came through the phone.

"Mhm."

Camilla curled her lips slightly, her tone indifferent as she relayed the news she had obtained.

"You’re lying alone in the hospital with severe injuries, yet Margaret is happily dining at a high-end restaurant with his wife and child, enjoying their perfect little family moment."

She paused, her soft voice laced with unmistakable coldness.

"Seems you don’t mean much to him after all."

Tamara remained silent, but her breathing grew noticeably heavier.

After a long pause, she finally murmured, "What do you want me to do, Mrs. Luther?"

"It’s not about what I want.

It’s about what you should do."

Camilla narrowed her beautiful eyes, her words slow and deliberately casual.

"My people can’t guard you forever.

Once they leave, there’s no guarantee Margaret’s men won’t seize the opportunity to strike again."

A faint smirk played on her lips.

"The only person you can rely on now is Jonathan.

If even his heart shifts back to Margaret, you know what’ll happen to you—no need for me to spell it out, right?"

Tamara’s pupils constricted sharply, her grip tightening around the phone.

"...I know what to do."

Camilla’s delicate face remained cool and composed.

She had given enough of a warning.

If Tamara still didn’t get it, then there was no point in continuing their arrangement.

The call ended.

Leaning her head on her hand, Camilla watched the tall, broad-shouldered figure moving in the kitchen, a soft smile returning to her lips.

Happiness—some people didn’t deserve it.

But others absolutely must have it.

Rising from the sofa, she walked up behind Sinclair and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Sweetheart."

"Hmm?"

He didn’t pause his movements but straightened slightly to let her lean against him more comfortably, the corners of his lips lifting in a faint smile.

Resting her cheek against the solid warmth of his back, Camilla spoke in a tender yet solemn voice.

"I love you."

Sinclair’s hands stilled, his dark eyes threatening to swallow all the light before him.

"Camilla," His voice emerged low and rough, as if dragged through gravel.

"I didn’t hear you clearly."

"Didn’t hear me?"

"Mmm."

His Adam’s apple bobbed with the quiet affirmation.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard—it was that he couldn’t get enough.

Understanding flickered in Camilla’s beautiful eyes as she released her grip around his waist.

In one fluid motion, she lifted his arm, ducked beneath it, and pressed herself flush against his chest, wrapping her arms around him properly this time.

"Sweetheart."

She brushed her lips against his—once, twice—each word a breath against his mouth.

"I love you."

"I love you."

"I love you."

"Important things need to be said three times. Did you get it now?"

"I got it."

Sinclair looked down at the person in his arms, the smile on his lips deepening.

"Camilla, I love you more."

He braced his hands on the table behind Camilla, leaning down to kiss her.

This kiss carried no trace of desire—only warmth and sweetness.

Not "I love you."

Not "I love you too."

But "I love you more."

Camilla closed her eyes, accepting his affection, yet she couldn’t help but argue in her heart.

No.

In this lifetime, the one who loves more... is clearly me.

—— Meanwhile.

In the private dining room, a phone suddenly rang. Margaret paused mid-bite, her intuition screaming at her.

That call was definitely from that bitch.

Just as she suspected, Jonathan’s expression shifted the moment he saw the caller ID.

"Go ahead without me," he said, rising from the table.

"I need to take this."

"Jonathan."

Margaret reached out, her fingers tightening around his sleeve.

"Whatever it is, can’t it wait until after dinner?"

Her voice was light, but her grip betrayed her unease.