Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 183: Margaret’s Outburst

Chapter 183: Margaret’s Outburst

--- Meanwhile, at the hospital.

"How could this happen?!"

"How could this happen?"

Tamara’s eyes instantly welled up with tears as she gazed at Jonathan.

"A car accident?

Out of nowhere?"

The tremor in her voice betrayed her deep concern and heartache.

"Are you badly hurt anywhere?"

"What did the doctors say?"

"Don’t worry, just some minor scrapes and bruises.

Nothing serious,"

Jonathan replied gently, his eyes softening as he took in Tamara’s pale face.

"But you—you’re still recovering from your own injuries.

Why come all the way here to see me?"

He paused then, a flicker of suspicion barely discernible in the depths of his gaze.

"Though, Tamara... how did you know I was at this hospital?"

Thanks to Margaret’s two-faced nature, he couldn’t help but question everyone around him now.

"I called you, but you didn’t answer.

I was so worried something had happened that I phoned Camilla—that’s how I found out about the accident,"

Tamara explained softly, smoothing the edges of his blanket with tender care.

"What, were you planning to keep it from me if I didn’t know?"

Her tone was light, as if completely oblivious to Jonathan’s suspicion.

Camilla was the driver behind the wheel when Jonathan had his accident.

She had indeed gotten the information from him.

Of course, it wouldn’t have happened without Camilla’s subtle guidance beforehand.

So that’s how it was.

He had overthought things.

"Now that you’ve seen for yourself and know I’m fine, you should go back and rest.

Your health comes first."

The doubt in Jonathan’s eyes faded, replaced by a warm smile.

"It’s just that I won’t be able to visit you these next few days."

At the thought of his father’s words, he sighed inwardly, his expression tinged with guilt and unease.

"I’ve already rested all day—I’m not tired.

Let me stay here with you for a while longer."

Tamara adjusted her coat, her frail face softening as she stepped forward to pour Jonathan a glass of water.

She tested the temperature before handing it to him.

"Funny how fate works, isn’t it?

Both of us are getting into car accidents one after the other.

Anyone would think we planned it together."

Beneath her lighthearted laughter, her eyes held a deeper, unspoken meaning.

"Hahaha," Jonathan took a sip of tea and chuckled dismissively.

"Who in their right mind would plan a car crash together?

It’s just a coincidence..."

His voice trailed off mid-sentence, as if struck by a sudden thought.

His brows slowly furrowed.

Only a single day apart.

Calling it a coincidence seemed far too convenient.

Jonathan pressed his lips together, his eyes dark with suspicion and cold contemplation.

"What’s wrong, Jonathan?"

Tamara frowned.

"Did I say something wrong?

I’m sorry—I just wanted to lighten the mood. I didn’t think too much about it."

Despite her words, a fleeting glint of triumph flashed in her eyes.

"No," Jonathan snapped out of his thoughts and met her gaze.

"I was just thinking about something else.

It has nothing to do with you—don’t take everything so personally."

"That’s a relief," she said softly.

"I hate seeing you upset."

Tamara let out a relieved sigh and smiled.

"Things were like this over twenty years ago.

Who would’ve thought they’d stay exactly the same after all this time?"

Her words tugged Jonathan’s memories back into the past.

"I remember back then, it was clearly me who—" His sentence was abruptly cut off by the sound of the door swinging open.

"Sir, Madam is here."

"Move aside.

Jonathan, are you alri—"

Margaret, dressed in a sleek, dark-blue tailored skirt suit, hurried into the room with a look of urgency.

But the first thing she saw was Jonathan engaged in what appeared to be an intimate, warm conversation with a woman whose back was turned to the door.

Her steps froze mid-stride.

The concern that had filled her eyes moments ago instantly hardened into smoldering fury.

This was nothing short of a full-blown battlefield.

The bodyguard lowered his head and quietly slipped out of the room.

"Tamara," Jonathan’s eyes flickered with unease the moment he spotted Margaret.

"What brings you here?"

What brings her here?

The question only stoked the fire of Margaret’s fury.

The way he said it—as if she were some unwelcome outsider!

Finally, she’s here.

Tamara suppressed a cold sneer, though her face wore an expression of surprise as she turned to Margaret.

"You must be... Jonathan’s wife," she said, rising gracefully from her seat and extending a hand with a gentle smile.

"He’s mentioned you often. You’re even younger and more beautiful than I imagined."

"I’m Tamara.

It’s a pleasure."

But Margaret remained motionless, her gaze fixed intently on Tamara’s face, offering no response.

This was the first time she had seen Tamara up close.

She had to admit—the woman didn’t photograph well.

In person, she was far more striking than in pictures.

Her fair skin was impeccably maintained, and she carried the poised, sophisticated charm of a mature woman.

Most importantly.

This woman’s eyes bore a striking resemblance to her own—about thirty to forty percent similar!

In an instant, it was as if everything clicked into place.

Her pupils contracted sharply.

A tidal wave of fury surged through Margaret, one after another, completely consuming her.

Her body trembled with rage.

She must have figured it out by now, hadn’t she?

Tamara smirked inwardly, though her face wore an expression of timid discomfort.

She glanced sideways at Jonathan.

"Jonathan..."

"Tamara," Jonathan had already schooled his expression, masking his earlier embarrassment.

But as he took in Margaret’s uncharacteristic demeanor and Tamara’s still-outstretched hand, his brows furrowed.

"Tamara is just greeting you."

No matter what, she couldn’t completely disregard his dignity and make a scene in front of everyone.

"Greeting me?"

Margaret’s gaze was venomous, locked onto Tamara like a predator sizing up its prey.

"Too bad what I feel like doing right now isn’t greeting her."

Before either of them could react, she had already closed the distance between them in a few swift strides.

Her hand shot up—and came crashing down in a vicious slap.

Smack!

* A sharp, crisp sound echoed through the hospital room.

Jonathan’s slap sent Tamara reeling, sending her crashing heavily to the ground.

*Damn it!*

Tamara had anticipated this, but she hadn’t expected the woman to hit so hard.

Her head was ringing, her entire left side of the face numb and throbbing.

"Tamara!!"

Jonathan, jolted by the sudden violence, threw off the hospital blanket and rushed to her side, pulling her into his arms to inspect the damage.

Tamara’s cheek had already swollen to twice its size, angry red and hot to the touch.

Blood trickled from her nose and the corner of her lips.

"Jonathan..."

She buried her face against his chest, trembling with feigned fear—but her eyes locked onto Margaret’s, her lips curling into a faint, icy smirk.

"Are you out of your goddamn mind?!"

Jonathan roared, whirling on Margaret, his face twisted with fury.

"What, you didn’t finish her off last time, so now you’re trying again right in front of me?"

"Trying again?"

Margaret sneered, her voice dripping with venom.

"I’d do it a hundred times if I had to."

Margaret glared at Jonathan and Tamara, her eyes burning with such fury that she seemed ready to tear the latter to pieces.

"If I’d known all these years you were using me as a stand-in for this old hag, Jonathan, I would’ve killed her long ago—I wouldn’t have waited till today."

A flicker of shame crossed Jonathan’s eyes, veins bulging at his temples.

--- Meanwhile, at the Sinclair Family Estate.

Camilla bit her reddened lips, her fingers digging into Sinclair’s shoulders.

"Sinclair... someone’s here."

Her trembling voice was thick with tension.

Sinclair stilled, beads of sweat rolling down his chiseled jaw and onto Camilla’s porcelain skin.

His dark, piercing eyes fixed on the door.

"Get out."

His voice was low, rough, and edged with an authority that brooked no argument.

"But..."

Aunt Naomi hesitated, casting an uneasy glance at the person behind her.