Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 311: Camilla really want to be the host?

"Really?"

Sinclair gently stroked Camilla’s hair, his dark eyes unfathomably deep.

Camilla couldn’t tell whether he believed her or not, so she tightened her arms slightly around his waist.

"It seems saving Carie Ann back then wasn’t just a coincidence—it was meant to be," she said, tilting her head up to gaze at him with crescent-moon eyes.

"Sweetheart, fate has been kind to us after all, hasn’t it?"

Kind? Indeed.

Sinclair looked into those beautiful eyes—eyes that held only him—and his expression softened.

"Mmm," he murmured, bending down to press a kiss to her forehead.

His lips parted slightly as he whispered,

"Every time I see you, I feel the same way."

Or, to be more precise— Only when he saw her did he feel as though fate had, for once, smiled upon him.

Sinclair’s words sent waves of overwhelming affection coursing through Camilla’s veins, converging into a molten warmth that softened her heart completely.

"Sweetheart—"

She released her grip around his waist and instead wrapped her arms around his neck.

"You’re also fate’s gift to me."

This was a truth her past self had failed to grasp, but now it was etched deep into her bones and blood.

Sinclair’s dark eyes narrowed slightly as he pulled her pliant body closer.

With a love bordering on obsession, he captured Camilla’s lips in a kiss—this time, unbearably tender.

The sweet tension between them filled the confined space of the car.

Meanwhile, in a villa on the west side of the city...

"Camilla had the man brought to the Luther estate?"

Calvin’s sharp, fox-like eyes glinted with cold intensity as he stared at Jey.

"When did this happen?"

His brow furrowed. "Why wasn’t I informed?"

"An—an hour ago," Jey stammered, visibly shaken by his boss’s stern expression.

"You said yesterday that Mrs. Luther could deal with that person however she saw fit—no need to report back to you."

Calvin nearly choked on his own fury.

Snatching up an imported object from his desk, he hurled it at Jey.

"You blockhead!

Orders are one thing, but you’ve got to use your head!"

Jey didn’t dare dodge.

The overripe fruit splattered against him, leaving a sticky, pitiful mess.

"Understood, sir."

"Understood my—"

Calvin barely stopped himself from cursing, rubbing his temples in frustration.

"Get out."

"Yes, yes!"

Jey practically sagged with relief.

"I’ll get out right now, right now!"

With that, he bolted from the room as if the wind itself propelled him.

The sharp click of the door closing only deepened the furrow between Calvin’s brows.

After a moment, he exhaled deeply and dialed Taylor’s number.

"To what do I owe the pleasure of this call today?"

Taylor’s smooth voice carried a teasing lilt.

"No longer busy with your *life’s great affair*?"

"Taylor," Calvin drawled, lazily crossing his long legs as he leaned back in his chair, his tone turning serious.

"Where’s the poison master you hired?"

Taylor hadn’t expected Calvin to cut straight to the chase.

Calvin paused briefly, caught off guard.

"Why do you ask?"

Having known each other for years, they understood one another implicitly.

Taylor knew that if Calvin was asking, he must have already pieced something together.

Likewise, Calvin recognized Taylor’s evasion as confirmation.

"Taylor," Calvin’s voice was measured but heavy with resolve.

"I bear undeniable responsibility for Sinclair being poisoned by Michael.

I have to make amends."

Calvin paused, then pressed on, his voice dropping lower.

"Camilla took the poison teacher to her place, didn’t she?

Is she planning to transfer the primary poison from Michael into herself?"

Calvin had clearly heard the method to lift the curse and had already made up his mind.

"Calvin," Taylor exhaled a slow stream of smoke before speaking in a measured tone.

"You should know that Sinclair doesn’t blame you."

"Of course I know that,"

Calvin smirked, his tone deliberately light.

"It’s just that I’ve never liked owing anyone anything.

Besides," Calvin paused briefly, deftly picking up a cigarette and lighter from the table.

As he lit it, he continued in a slow, lazy drawl.

"A grown man like me is bound to handle it better than Camilla.

It’s safer if I become the new host."

Taking on the role of the new host would be his way of making amends.

"That may be true," Taylor flicked the ash from his cigarette, chuckling softly.

"But don’t forget—even if you’re willing, Camilla would never agree to entrust Sinclair’s fate to you.

Nor would she feel at ease about it."

At those words, Calvin froze mid-drag, his usually playful peach-blossom eyes narrowing slightly.

Calvin hadn’t considered that.

Before Calvin could respond, Taylor continued.

"Camilla has made up her mind.

Nothing you say will change it."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke in a calm, measured tone.

"If you want to make amends, you’ll have to find another way."

Silence stretched over the phone.

"I guess there’s no other choice," Calvin murmured after a moment, closing his eyes and drawing a deep breath.

His voice was low, almost resigned.

"I really need to stop being so softhearted."

"Don’t change.

It suits you,"

Taylor replied, his tone as mild and composed as ever—yet utterly sincere.

"I’d hate to have all my friends as hard-hearted as Sinclair.

How else would I ever get the upper hand?"

Calvin: "..."

"Even in my current state, you’re still scheming for an advantage," he said with a wry chuckle, amusement lacing his voice.

"Taylor, are you even human?"

Taylor chuckled softly but said nothing more. Suddenly, something flickered through

Calvin’s long, narrow peach-blossom eyes—a fleeting thought that darted across his gaze.

"Oh, by the way," he drawled, "heard that Violet is back?"

Not that he was keeping tabs on Taylor specifically.

But in the capital, his eyes and ears were everywhere.

Gathering intel was child’s play.

The smile on Taylor’s face froze instantly.

Hearing the silence on the other end of the line, Calvin smirked.

"Guess the rumors are true," he mused, his lazy, teasing tone laced with amusement.

"So, need me to send someone to teach her a lesson?

After all, she screwed you over pretty bad back then."

"No."

Taylor’s voice turned icy, edged with something darker.

"I’ll handle her myself.

Stay out of it."

Without another word, he hung up.

Calvin shrugged, his expression utterly unsurprised.

Real brothers share each other’s troubles.

Though he’d forgotten to ask about the exact timing for transferring the poison worm.

At that thought, Calvin immediately dialed Taylor again.

This time, however, the call was abruptly hung up.

—— Luther Family Manor, Study.

"Listen carefully," Sinclair fixed his sharp gaze on Ramsey, his handsome face stern and unyielding.

"Keep a close eye on Camilla.

Don’t let her take any risks," His eyes narrowed slightly, his voice icy and leaving no room for argument.

"Or I’ll hold you personally responsible."

"...Understood."

Ramsey bowed his head, though inwardly he was already groaning in frustration.

Since when could he ever control Madam’s actions?

One wrong move, and he’d be caught in the crossfire—trapped by both sides.

Just then, a knock sounded at the study door.

"Sweetheart, it’s me."

Camilla walked in, carrying a glass of milk.

This 𝓬ontent is taken from f(r)eeweb(n)ovel.𝒄𝒐𝙢