Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 287: The person who killed your mother is someone from your family

Chapter 287: The person who killed your mother is someone from your family

"Let me go!"

Ms. Tina struggled desperately, her shrill voice thick with palpable terror.

"Release me—let me go!"

The two mercenaries’ hands clamped around her like iron vices, unmoved by her frantic efforts as they dragged her toward the spiked wall.

Ms. Tina’s eyes nearly bulged from their sockets at the sight before her—the wall of gleaming metal spikes, cold and reeking of blood.

"President Luther, I beg you—spare me!"

she pleaded, tears streaming down her face.

"I had nothing to do with what happened to Madam, I swear it wasn’t me!"

Camilla watched Ms. Tina, her delicate brows furrowed slightly.

What did the mastermind behind this woman offer her?

Or rather—what leverage did they hold over her?

How could she still grit her teeth and hold out, even in a moment like this?

"Is that so?"

Sinclair arched an eyebrow, his long, narrow eyes as cold and sharp as ice.

"Then tell me, who’s involved?"

His strikingly handsome face was half-lit, half-shaded in the flickering light, like a fusion of angel and demon—unreadable, yet evoking an instinctive mix of dread and awe.

"It’s... it’s..."

Ms. Tina seemed to recall something, her words catching in her throat before she could finish.

"I don’t know who’s involved," she stammered, kowtowing frantically in Sinclair’s direction.

"Please, let me go! I’m just an ordinary person, I beg you..."

All she could hope for now was that Sinclair merely intended to frighten her, not actually subject her to the gruesome torture before her.

Sinclair’s fingers traced slow, deliberate circles along Camilla’s waist, his lips curling into a sickly smile.

"Proceed."

"Yes, sir!"

The two mercenaries nodded in unison.

They positioned themselves on either side of Ms. Tina, restraining her arms with tools before driving them toward the spiked wall.

"AAAAAAHHHH—!"

A searing, bone-deep pain contorted Ms. Tina’s face beyond recognition.

Her body instinctively jerked in resistance.

But the slightest movement only amplified the agony tenfold, stealing her breath away.

A bloodcurdling scream tore through the cavernous basement, echoing off the walls with spine-chilling intensity.

Yet everyone present remained unfazed, as if this were just another ordinary day.

"Camilla," Sinclair murmured, his dark gaze shifting to Camilla.

His voice was low, almost hesitant.

"Would you rather wait upstairs?"

As much as he wanted her by his side, he couldn’t bear the thought of her seeing this darker, bloodstained part of him.

"No," Camilla answered softly, shaking her head before nestling closer against him. Her voice was steady, unwavering.

"Sweetheart, I’m not afraid."

She wasn’t the same person she had been in her past life.

When it came to those who had hurt or betrayed her, no punishment was too cruel.

Sinclair said nothing, but his arm around her tightened protectively.

The gentle warmth and sweet fragrance helped him maintain a tenuous grip on the primal chaos threatening to erupt from within.

The mercenary’s work continued relentlessly.

Rusty nails pierced through Ms. Tina’s palms one after another, fresh blood oozing from the wounds and dripping down to stain the long-dried bloodstains anew.

The screams echoing through the basement grew increasingly shrill, each more harrowing than the last.

Ms. Tina’s bloodshot eyes burned with hatred, fixed unblinkingly on Sinclair and Camilla.

Her face twisted into a grotesque mask of agony and terror.

Yet Sinclair and Camilla remained utterly composed, their detached expressions making them seem as though they were observing from some lofty, untouchable height.

Her hands were firmly nailed to the wall—then came to her feet.

The nerves in the feet were far more sensitive than those in the palms.

Naturally, the pain was excruciating..

"AAAAAHHH—"

Ms. Tina’s screams crescendoed, each wave more ear-splitting and bone-chilling than the one before.

Sinclair’s face betrayed no emotion as he watched the scene unfold with icy detachment.

His long, elegant fingers retrieved a cigar, but instead of lighting it, he merely toyed with it absentmindedly between his fingers.

Camilla knew all too well that Sinclair was in a foul mood—and that tobacco was his way of coping.

She took the cigar from Sinclair’s hand, placed it between her own lips, and lit it with a flick of her lighter.

The pale blue flame casts delicate shadows across her long, thick lashes.

"Sweetheart,"

Camilla murmured, holding the lit cigar to the man’s thin lips,

"I told you before—"

Her voice was soft, intimate.

"With me, you can do anything."

No reservations. No hesitation. She loved all of him—every part.

Sinclair understood his wife’s meaning, his dark eyes deepening with something unreadable.

"Alright," he replied, leaning in to take the cigar from her fingers.

Sinclair drew in a slow, deep breath, the ember glowing bright.

Pale smoke curled from his lips, drifting upward in languid tendrils, veiling the cold, ruthless sharpness of his expression.

Meanwhile, the agony of the nail-studded wall quickly shattered Ms. Tina’s sanity.

"Sinclair—you madman!"

she shrieked, her bloodshot eyes bulging wide with pain and fury.

"You Luther’s are all bloodthirsty lunatics and devils!!"

At this moment, she couldn’t care less about anything else.

All she wanted was to vent her fury and distract herself through loud curses.

Ramsey frowned and stepped forward to cover Ms. Tina’s mouth.

"No need," Sinclair raised his cigar-holding hand, stopping the action.

"Let her curse."

All the Luther’s are madmen.

The number of Luther Family members she could have encountered was extremely limited.

Camilla’s beautiful eyes narrowed slowly.

Her thoughts aligned perfectly with Sinclair’s.

"Don’t you want to know how your mother died?"

Ms. Tina’s body trembled violently as she stared at Sinclair and shrieked hysterically.

"Go ask those around you!

Ask your own family!"

Those around you.

Your family.

Sinclair’s hand froze mid-air as it reached his lips, his expression instantly twisting into something feral and menacing.

The fathomless darkness in his eyes churned like a brewing storm, violent enough to shake the heavens.

An oppressive aura radiated from him, thick enough to suffocate the very air around them.

Even Ramsey was visibly stunned by Ms. Tina’s words, his pupils flickering in shock.

That single sentence could turn the entire Luther Family upside down.

"Ms. Tina," Camilla tightened her grip on Sinclair’s other hand, her voice icy.

"Do you have any idea what you’re saying?"

Ms. Tina, crying in agony, seemed to realize the gravity of her own words.

Her eyes darted nervously, but she clamped her mouth shut, letting out only pained, wretched wails instead.

Sinclair remained motionless, his elegant fingers clutching the cigarette so tightly they turned bone-white.

"Ramsey, continue the interrogation," Camilla murmured softly, gently tugging at Sinclair’s hand.

"Sweetheart, let’s go home, okay?"

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