Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 277: Saving Tiffany

Chapter 277: Saving Tiffany

*Knock, knock, knock—*

Calvin rapped his knuckles against the car door, his expression unreadable, shadows flickering in his eyes.

Jayden had spent years navigating the cutthroat entertainment industry, honing his ability to read people like an open book.

One look at Calvin, and he knew—this was a man he couldn’t afford to cross.

Today’s misfortune was inevitable.

A dark glint flashed in Jayden’s eyes before he schooled his features into a polite smile and stepped out of the car.

"Sir," he said, voice smooth and conciliatory, "let’s just handle this through insurance, shall we?"

Calvin didn’t respond.

His icy gaze slid past Jayden, locking onto the backseat.

Noticing the direction of his stare, Jayden’s composure cracked for a split second—just a flicker of panic—before he quickly turned and shut the door behind him.

"My wife had a bit too much to drink," he explained, urgency creeping into his tone.

"I was just in a hurry to get her home to rest. About the car—how should we settle this?"

Calvin’s lips curved slightly, his striking peach-blossom eyes glinting with something between amusement and menace.

"You tell me," he said, voice low and deliberate.

"Is she your wife?"

Could this guy possibly know Tiffany?

Jayden had already sensed something was off, his eyes narrowing with suspicion as he stared at Calvin.

"This has nothing to do with what we’re discussing right now.

I—" Before he could finish, Calvin grabbed him by the collar and punched him square in the face.

**Thud!**

A dull impact echoed as blood trickled from Jayden’s lips and nose. Clutching his throbbing face, he glared at Calvin, equal parts furious and stunned.

"You son of a—" Calvin barely got the words out before Calvin yanked him forward.

Thud.

**Thud.**

... The sickening sound of knees slamming into his gut came in rapid succession.

Every strike was delivered with brutal precision, leaving Jayden powerless to fight back.

Calvin felt as though his internal organs had been shattered, an excruciating pain radiating through his entire body.

Crimson blood continued to seep from the corners of his lips and nostrils, staining his face in grotesque streaks.

Yet Calvin showed no signs of stopping.

Before long, Jayden couldn’t even muster a scream.

The scene was nothing short of brutal.

Calvin’s striking good looks, juxtaposed against the violence unfolding, drew the horrified gazes of passersby.

Fortunately, someone quickly intervened, dismissing the spectacle as a film shoot to contain the situation.

"Mr. Calvin—"

A buzz-cut young man in black, his muscular frame exuding quiet strength, approached Calvin.

His eyes flickered with surprise.

His boss—whose handsome face was usually graced with a faint, charming smile—now wore an expression so cold and menacing it sent chills down his spine.

"Take him back. Lock him in the vault."

Calvin tossed Jayden aside like discarded trash, his peach-blossom eyes—usually warm and alluring—now glinting with frost.

"Yes, sir."

The buzz-cut man gave a sharp nod and immediately signaled two others to drag Jayden away.

Meanwhile, Calvin opened the rear car door.

Shrugging off his pristine suit jacket—untouched by the bloodshed—he draped it gently over Tiffany’s trembling form.

Then he scooped her up and carried her toward his car.

The moment his fingers brushed against Tiffany’s skin, Calvin’s eyes darkened—her feverish heat was alarming.

A chilling intensity radiated from him, sharpening the air around them.

"Mr. Calvin," the buzz-cut young man blurted, eyes widening.

"Let me take her.

Your injuries—"

"My hands are fine," Calvin cut in, his voice flat, not sparing him a glance.

"Open the door."

Was this the Miss Tiffany that Jey had mentioned?

The young man’s gaze lingered briefly on the woman completely shrouded in his boss’s suit jacket before nodding swiftly.

Calvin stepped forward and pulled open the rear door.

Calvin carefully settled Tiffany inside before sliding in beside her.

"Head to the villa in the west district," he ordered, his tone icy.

"And arrange for two female doctors to be waiting there."

"Understood!" The car started again, speeding away from the scene.

The autumn night carried a biting chill.

Yet beads of sweat glistened on Tiffany’s forehead.

Even unconscious, her delicate brows remained tightly furrowed, her expression one of clear distress.

"Roll down the windows," Hoyt noticed, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"All of them."

"Yes, sir," the buzz-cut young man replied, clearly puzzled but complying without question.

As the windows lowered, cool air rushed in from all directions, dropping the temperature inside the car.

Tiffany seemed to find some relief—her tense expression softened ever so slightly.

The driver exhaled quietly, leaning back against the seat and closing his eyes.

His untreated wound continued to bleed, leaving his face unnaturally pale.

Under the flickering glow of streetlights, he looked almost fragile—a haunting kind of beauty etched with exhaustion.

Before they’d even reached the halfway point, Tiffany suddenly awoke.

It felt as though she were being roasted over an open flame—her blood boiling and screaming for relief, desperate for something cold to quell the fire.

"I feel awful..." she murmured weakly.

The buzz-cut young man in the front seat stiffened at the noise from the back, his eyes widening in realization.

In an instant, he understood why the boss had specifically requested a female doctor earlier.

As Tiffany shifted restlessly, she nearly tumbled from her seat.

But Calvin reacted swiftly, his arm darting out to catch her by the waist.

She collapsed into his embrace, her posture slightly disheveled.

The sudden movement jostled his injuries, drawing a low grunt of pain from Calvin—though Tiffany remained oblivious.

No, more accurately, she was completely unaware of anything at all.

The chill radiating from Calvin’s body, weakened from blood loss, felt like a balm against her feverish skin.

Instinctively, she pressed her face against him, seeking more of that soothing coolness.

The faint scent of liquor mingled with the delicate fragrance unique to a young woman struck Calvin like a physical blow to the chest.

His dark, narrow eyes abruptly narrowed further, tension coiling in his gaze.

The young man with a crew cut remained silent for several seconds before decisively raising the partition between them.

Calvin knew all too well.

What was about to happen wasn’t something he should witness.

"Tiffany," Calvin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as his voice dropped slightly.

"I’m Calvin."

Calvin understood Tiffany was barely conscious, but he still wanted her to know who he was.

"Mmm... Calvin..."

Tiffany bit down hard on her reddened lips, as if struggling to hold back, her body trembling uncontrollably from the effort.

"Calvin, I think... I have a fever."

Of course, these words were nothing more than an unconscious echo of his own, slipping past her lips without thought.

Her scorching breath fanned against Calvin’s neck, darkening his gaze further.

Calvin had always been the type to flirt without attachment, untouched by fleeting affairs.

Never before had he been this close to a woman.

But this was Tiffany.

Calvin didn’t resist.

If anything, he felt himself... losing control.

Calvin had no intention of taking advantage of her vulnerable state.

His muscular arm encircled Tiffany’s slender waist while his other hand reached for a nearby water bottle, twisting it open before bringing it to her lips.

"Drink some," he urged, his voice firm yet gentle.

But Tiffany, lost in some distant thought, resisted entirely.

Instead, she burrowed deeper into his embrace like a petulant child.

"No... I don’t want it..."

In her struggle, her hand accidentally struck the bottle, sending water splashing across her thin white blouse, soaking a large patch of fabric.

Calvin’s breath hitched.

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