Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 279: I hope Camilla will love me forever

Chapter 279: I hope Camilla will love me forever

"Open it."

Sinclair lifted his gaze to Jey, his thin lips parting slightly.

"Right away."

Jey exhaled almost imperceptibly in relief and immediately picked up the wine bottle on the table, pouring for both of them.

"Please enjoy."

"Anything else?"

Sinclair didn’t reach for his glass.

Instead, his deep, obsidian eyes swept over Jey with detached indifference.

Under that icy, unreadable stare, Jey felt an invisible weight press down on him.

At that moment, he couldn’t help but mentally add another tally to his endless list of sympathy for Ramsey.

Working under President Luther was like walking on thin ice—one wrong move, and you’d plunge into peril.

"Nothing at all," Jey said, bowing his head slightly to avoid that piercing gaze.

"I’ll take my leave now."

Calvin turned toward the door but suddenly paused mid-step.

"By the way, President Luther, Mrs. Luther," the attendant said with practiced professionalism, "the rooftop hot spring suite and fresh attire have been prepared for you both.

You may proceed directly after dinner."

Pausing briefly, the attendant added in a carefully measured tone, "I’ll ensure all other guests vacate the hot spring area immediately.

Should you require anything, simply contact our staff.

Hotel service robots will handle all deliveries."

Without waiting for a response, the attendant gave a stiff bow and practically fled the dining room—as if escaping an invisible threat.

The unspoken message hung heavy in the air: The entire mountain resort is yours.

Do whatever you wish.

Or don’t.

Not that you’ll have a choice.

Sinclair’s obsidian eyes darkened, the ghost of a smirk playing at the corners of his lips.

That bastard Calvin.

* "Sinclair," Camilla murmured, nestling deeper into her husband’s embrace.

Her crimson lips curved in amusement as she peered up at him through her lashes.

"You’re terrifying people again."

Sinclair gazed down at his wife’s upturned face—the way her playful smile softened the sharp angles of her features—and couldn’t resist brushing his lips against the corner of her mouth.

"Never to you," he vowed, voice rough with promise.

Calvin handed her a crystal glass of wine, then claimed the other for himself.

"Sweetheart," Camilla’s eyes curved slightly as she raised her glass toward the man before her, her tone earnest.

"This toast is the same as always—to us being together forever."

Or, more accurately— She hoped the Twin-Life poison could be resolved smoothly, so they could truly stay together for eternity.

"Agreed."

Sinclair downed his drink in one swift motion, the depths of his dark eyes flickering with something unreadable.

Being together forever was his wish too.

But only if it came at no cost to Camilla.

Camilla narrowed her beautiful eyes slightly and lifted her own glass to her lips.

But the moment the liquid touched her tongue, she paused.

Sinclair’s gaze sharpened.

"What’s wrong?"

She resumed her motion, draining the glass before replying with a soft laugh.

"There’s some tonic mixed in the wine.

Didn’t expect someone like Calvin to be into health remedies."

The tonic here is meant quite literally— to invigorate blood circulation and strengthen the body.

It would aid the sweetheart’s wound recovery.

"Tonic?"

Sinclair’s handsome brows furrowed slightly, though he ultimately remained silent.

Camilla reached out, picked up the wine bottle, and refilled both their glasses.

Holding up her glass, she clinked it against his once more, her voice steady yet tender.

"This toast," she said, "is to our happiness—forever and always."

Sinclair gazed at the face etched deeply into his heart, his dark eyes flickering with emotion.

"Agreed."

After two glasses, a delicate flush bloomed across Camilla’s fair, refined cheeks, her clear eyes glazing with a hazy sheen.

Tipsiness often brings the highest spirits. Without hesitation, she lifted the bottle and poured a third round.

"Sweetheart," she said, her voice bright, "you name the blessing for this third glass."

"Alright," Sinclair leaned in closer to Camilla, his godlike features softened with tenderness.

"I hope Camilla will love me forever."

She was the light in his shadowed existence—her love was the very air he breathed.

"Sweetheart," Camilla wrapped her arms around his neck, her clear, luminous eyes locking onto his deep, fathomless gaze.

"I will," Her voice was gentle yet resolute.

"I’ll love you forever and ever, until my heart stops beating, until I vanish completely from this world."

No matter how many times Sinclair asked about love, she would answer with unwavering certainty—without hesitation. Always.

Because Camilla knew all too well that steadfast love was his salvation.

And of course, hers as well.

"Camilla," Sinclair’s dark eyes burned with emotion, the rising tide of love threatening to drown him whole.

"I love you more."

No matter how much Camilla loved him, his love for her would always surpass hers.

A warm surge of affection spread through Camilla’s heart as she wrapped her arms around Sinclair’s neck.

"Sweetheart—"

The soft glow of the restaurant lights shimmered in her eyes, bright as a galaxy.

The moment was perfect.

Sinclair lowered his head and captured his delicate wife’s rosy lips in a kiss.

Their breaths mingled, the embrace growing deeper, more possessive.

It felt like an eternity before they reluctantly pulled apart.

"Sweetheart, let’s go soak in the hot springs," he murmured.

Camilla’s breathing steadied as she nodded.

"Okay."

The benefits of the hot springs were countless—good for both Sweetheart and her, with no downsides.

Plus, soaking there meant they could take in the breathtaking view of the entire city of N, something she had been eagerly anticipating.

With a gentle yet firm grip, Sinclair lifted his wife into his arms and carried her into the elevator, ascending to the top floor.

The dim golden lights around the hot spring created an intimate ambiance rather than brightness.

Natural spring water channeled from the mountains flowed at the perfect temperature, with tendrils of steam curling upward in the tranquil, soothing atmosphere.

Adjacent to the spring stood separate changing rooms for men and women.

Only after Camilla’s repeated insistence did

Sinclair finally set her down at the entrance of the women’s changing room, then made his way to the men’s side.

Of course, Camilla’s main concern was ensuring her husband wouldn’t bend the rules of their little "punishment" game.

Sinclair understood this all too well, his thin lips curling into a wry smile.

This lesson had certainly left its mark.

At the hot spring resort, Sinclair emerged from the changing room in swim trunks.

His broad shoulders and narrow waist formed a flawless silhouette, every muscle defined like a sculpted international supermodel.

Yet even more striking was his impossibly handsome face—flawless in every way.

Only his piercingly cold eyes betrayed an air of detachment.

Standing there, he embodied the paradox of a deity and an enigma—untouchable yet utterly captivating.

A floating tray drifted on the hot spring’s surface, carrying prepared drinks.

Sinclair stepped into the steaming water first, testing the temperature before settling in.

Sinclair poured himself a drink, waiting for Camilla to join him.

Yet twenty minutes passed, and she still hadn’t emerged.

Thinking of his beloved’s low alcohol tolerance, his brows furrowed slightly.

Sinclair rose from the water, droplets cascading down his sharply defined muscles before rolling off his narrow waist.

With long strides, he made his way toward the women’s changing room.

At the door, he knocked.

"Camilla?"

Silence.

"I’m coming in."

His dark, narrowed eyes sharpened with concern.

Without hesitation, he pushed the door open and stepped inside.