Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 181: It was Ms Sandra Porter

Chapter 181: It was Ms Sandra Porter

"It was the madam of the Porter family," blurted the younger man in a panic before Camilla finished her countdown.

"No, it was Ms Sandra Porter!"

The other two chimed in frantically, terrified that even a second’s delay would send them tumbling over the edge.

"Sandra... Sandra ordered us to monitor your every move at the party."

"That’s right.

She specifically told us to capture the right angles—enough to make things look intimate."

Camilla narrowed her striking eyes and withdrew her hand.

Her breathtakingly beautiful face remained icy and composed, betraying no surprise.

After all, there were only a handful of people

scheming against her, and Sandra had long been on the list of suspects.

Beside her, Sinclair’s dark eyes glinted with a chilling intensity that made it impossible to meet his gaze.

"President Luther, Mrs. Luther," the younger man pleaded, kowtowing repeatedly.

"We’ve told you everything.

Please, show us mercy and let us go."

"Y-yes! We’ll do anything—just spare us!"

"Yes, yes.

Even if you ask us to kill Sandra, we’d be willing to do it." ...

Those who betray their original boss under threats can just as easily betray their new one when pressured by others.

She would never employ such people.

Before they could finish speaking, Camilla cut them off.

"Ramsey, take them away."

"Yes."

Ramsey glanced at Sinclair before directing the mercenaries to escort the three men out.

The room fell into immediate silence.

"All it takes is your nod, Camilla," Sinclair toyed with Camilla’s delicate fingers, his thin lips parting as he spoke in a measured tone.

"And Sandra’s death will make headlines within the hour."

Though eliminating Sandra would complicate dealing with the Porter family, nothing mattered more than keeping Camilla happy.

"Letting Sandra die like this would be too merciful," Camilla nestled comfortably in Sinclair’s embrace, her dazzling eyes brimming with an icy chill.

"The engagement banquet for Tyler and Sandra is coming soon," she murmured, her crimson lips curling into a sly smile.

"I’ll be giving her a little... *special gift*."

Her voice dropped to a whisper.

"Someone will take care of her for us."

Destroy everything—then let her die by the hands of her own people.

That was the fate she had long since chosen for Sandra.

And of course, the woman had brought it upon herself.

"Good," Sinclair replied, his dark eyes glinting with something unreadable.

"But one gift won’t be enough."

He had another *present* in store for the Porter family.

"You’re right, it won’t be enough," Camilla agreed, though unaware of his plans.

She sat up abruptly, turning to face him.

"Sweetheart, there’s something I need to discuss with you."

"*Discuss*?"

Sinclair arched an eyebrow.

"What could possibly be important enough for Camilla to use those words?"

Camilla pressed her lips together.

Truth be told, Sinclair had always indulged her in everything.

There really wasn’t anything she needed to consult him about.

"This... is a bit unusual," she said softly, meeting his cool, obsidian-dark eyes.

"I need your approval before I go through with it." She took a breath.

"I want to stage a little accident—just enough to make Jonathan bleed."

No matter what, Jonathan was still Sinclair’s biological father.

Sinclair reached out, pulling her back into his arms, his handsome face as composed as ever.

"Need me to do it for you?"

His immediate, unwavering response never failed to warm her heart.

But blood ties bound Sinclair to Jonathan, and she would never drag him into this.

"No, no," Camilla shook her head emphatically.

"But what if Grandpa finds out?

Won’t he be angry?"

"Don’t worry," Sinclair reassured in a gentle voice, understanding Camilla’s concern for the old man’s feelings.

"He won’t find out."

His words carried an unmistakable promise.

"Thank you, darling."

Camilla propped herself up slightly, hovering on her knees before Sinclair, and leaned in to press a soft kiss against his lips.

"But... don’t you want to know why I did this?"

Sinclair reached out, tucking a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his dark eyes warm and tender.

"Do you want to tell me, Camilla?"

"Yes," she answered without hesitation.

Aside from anything that might harm Sinclair, she would never keep secrets from him.

"I suspect... Tyler isn’t Jonathan’s biological son."

In a soft voice, she recounted Margaret’s slip of the tongue and all the suspicious details she had uncovered during her investigation, laying everything bare before Sinclair.

Tyler’s Identity had never been questioned—not by himself, nor by the entire Luther Family.

After all, few would dare to deceive the Luther Family.

But "few" didn’t mean "none."

A dark, icy smirk flickered in the depths of Sinclair’s fathomless obsidian eyes.

"If that’s really the case," he mused, "things just got a lot more interesting."

He wanted to see it—the look on Jonathan’s face when he realized he had abandoned his wife and son, lost his claim as family head, and spent over twenty years raising another man’s child.

It would be priceless.

The chilling aura radiating from Sinclair made Camilla’s heart ache.

She tightened her grip on his hand, just slightly.

A silent comfort, warm and steady, passed between them. ---

The white Range Rover sped toward the outskirts of the city.

In the backseat, Jonathan’s brows furrowed into deep creases.

The old man was unyielding. If he didn’t comply and make Tamara leave the capital, there was no telling what consequences might follow.

But if Tamara were to leave, seeing her again would be nearly impossible.

What’s more, if Margaret had dared to strike once, she wouldn’t hesitate to do it again.

Without him by her side, there was no way to guarantee Tamara’s safety.

Caught between a rock and a hard place, Jonathan’s frustration boiled over.

He slammed his fist down onto the plush leather seat with a muffled thud.

The driver flinched at the sudden outburst. "Sir, is everything alright?"

At that moment, the driver’s eyes flicked to the rearview mirror—and his face went pale.

A massive SUV was closing in fast from behind.

"Sir, sir, behind us—"

"Shut up!"

Jonathan snapped, assuming the driver was about to offer some useless platitude.

"Just keep your eyes on the road and drive. No more—"

**BANG!**

The deafening impact cut him off mid-sentence. His body lurched forward violently, the world spinning in a dizzying blur.

A warm trickle of blood seeped from his temple.

The driver’s head smacked against the steering wheel’s airbag, leaving him dazed for several long seconds before he could even gather his bearings.

"Sir, sir... are you alright?"

His face was pale with fear as he stared at Jonathan, who remained motionless in the back seat.

His voice trembled uncontrollably.

"Sir, please don’t scare me like this.

If anything happens to you, I won’t survive either."

And he meant it.

If something went wrong with the boss in his car, he’d be the first one held accountable—there’d be no escaping the consequences.

"...Shut up.

I’m not dead yet."

Jonathan clutched his throbbing temple, fighting back dizziness as he spoke through gritted teeth, his expression dark with fury.

"Get out and see who the hell had the nerve to hit us."

Meanwhile, on the other side— Camilla had just received the first piece of good news in a long while.

"Madam, we’ve got a lead."

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