Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 324: It’s me and you forever

Sir,"

Ramsey pretended not to notice Jonathan’s thoughts, his face a mask of confusion as he spoke.

"President Luther is in the inner room.

Aren’t you going in?"

Jonathan frowned, his gaze darkening with displeasure as he stared at Ramsey. freewebnøvel.coɱ

This kid’s smug expression was just like his father’s—utterly insufferable.

"You,"

Jonathan’s cold, heavy voice shifted to Luke.

"Take a few men and come with me."

Jonathan had already made it this far.

Leaving without seeing for himself was out of the question.

Luke glanced at Ramsey.

Ramsey kept his eyes downcast, giving no reaction.

"What are you looking at him for?"

Jonathan’s voice was sharp, laced with impatience. "Get moving!"

Luke understood Ramsey’s implication and nodded calmly.

"Understood,"

Luke turned to the mercenaries standing nearby.

"You lot, come with me to escort Mr. Jonathan inside."

"Yes, sir!"

Leading the way, Luke stepped in first.

Jonathan followed closely behind the group.

"President Luther, Madam," Luke rapped lightly on the door "

Mr. Jonathan has arrived."

Jonathan?

Camilla’s beautiful eyes narrowed slightly as she tried to rise from Sinclair’s embrace.

"Why is he here?"

"Don’t worry,"

But Sinclair’s slender, well-defined fingers pressed against the back of her head, pulling her firmly back into his arms.

"Leave it be."

The voice was low and rough, devoid of any warmth, yet not quite chilling enough to send shivers down one’s spine.

"Alright."

Camilla’s long, thick lashes fluttered slightly, but she remained still.

The room fell into silence.

Jonathan’s eyes darkened, an inexplicable emotion flickering in his chest.

Are Sinclair and grandpa putting on an act for me?

His gaze swept cautiously across the room.

When it landed on the bloodstains on the floor and the haphazardly discarded medical equipment, clearly just used, a shadow passed through his eyes.

"President Luther?

Madam?"

Luke knocked lightly on the door once more.

Sinclair lowered his gaze, his fingers gently stroking Camilla’s hair with surprising tenderness.

Yet the oppressive aura of menace and ruthlessness surrounding him cast a pall over his otherwise handsome, refined features.

"Sir, you’ve seen the situation for yourself," Luke turned to Jonathan, his face etched with helplessness.

"Without President Luther’s orders, we dare not enter without permission.

If you wish to go in—"

As he spoke, the man extended the key to the door before glancing toward Jonathan.

"Be my guest."

"You"

Jonathan stared at the key but didn’t immediately take it, his brow furrowed as he glared at the door.

Jonathan had witnessed firsthand just how terrifying Sinclair could be during one of his episodes.

To sum it up in eight words: ruthless, merciless, and devoid of any familial ties.

If he barged in like this, it would be far too dangerous.

Better to wait and observe a little longer.

After a moment of deliberation, Jonathan clenched his jaw. In the end, he didn’t take the key—instead, he turned on his heel and walked away.

Luke watched Jonathan’s retreating figure, the corner of his lips curling into a mocking smirk.

Ramsey, waiting by the door, flashed a knowing look in his eyes.

No wonder grandpa had been so at ease sending Jonathan over—it seemed he’d anticipated that this so-called "concern" of his wouldn’t amount to much.

By the time Jonathan returned to the living room, only Uncle Carlos remained, still waiting in the same spot.

His frown deepened.

"Where’s Dad?"

"Grandpa has retired for the evening,"

Uncle Carlos replied with a slight nod, his tone calm and measured.

"Let me see you out."

"No need,"

Jonathan muttered darkly, turning on his heel to leave.

But after just two steps, he paused abruptly.

"By the way, Carlos," he added, his voice low.

"If anything happens with Sinclair, don’t forget to send word immediately."

"Understood,"

Uncle Carlos acknowledged, his expression unreadable.

Jonathan said nothing more.

As he strode away, his eyes narrowed slowly.

Tonight hadn’t been a wasted trip. Ignoring Jonathan’s words, Uncle Carlos still escorted him to the door.

Only after confirming that Jonathan had driven away did he turn back inside.

Grandpa—"

Uncle Carlos knocked and entered the room.

Grandpa Luther lifted his gaze from the book and looked at him.

"Has he left?"

The question needed no clarification.

"Yes."

"Keep a close eye on him," Grandpa Luther said slowly.

"That son of mine... I find him more and more unfathomable."

Uncle Carlos nodded.

"Understood. I’ll make the arrangements immediately."

Meanwhile, in the backyard—

"Sinclair.."

Camilla leaned against Sinclair’s chest, her face pale with a delicate, sickly pallor.

"What do you think Jonathan is really after?"

Sinclair lowered his head, his cool lips brushing against Camilla’s delicate, porcelain cheek.

His voice, usually rough, softened to a velvet murmur.

"Whatever he’s scheming doesn’t matter.

The only thing that matters right now is you."

Camilla lifted her gaze to meet his.

They were so close she could see the tempest of love swirling in the depths of his dark, almond-shaped eyes.

A smile tugged at the corners of her lips.

For a moment, the pain wracking her body seemed to dull.

She nestled deeper into Sinclair’s embrace when a thought struck her.

"Sweetheart," she murmured softly, "tell me about your nightmares, won’t you?"

Nightmares often mirrored one’s deepest fears.

Camilla wanted to understand what haunted him.

At her words, Sinclair’s handsome features froze almost imperceptibly.

Visions from his dreams flickered through his mind like a macabre slideshow, finally settling on an image of roaring flames.

His dark eyes hardened.

"Sweetheart?"

Noticing Sinclair had remained silent for a long while, Camilla turned her head slightly to look at him.

The moment her eyes landed on him, her heart clenched in alarm.

Sinclair’s gaze was shadowed, his face drained of all color—pale and chillingly cold.

"Sweetheart, I was just asking casually.

You don’t have to answer if you don’t want to," Camilla said hurriedly, reaching out to gently caress his cheek.

"Let’s talk about something else, okay?"

Sinclair seemed to steady himself, pressing her hand against his face as if grounding himself in her warmth.

"I dreamed of Camilla lying still in bed," he murmured, his dark eyes fixed and unreadable, his lips twisting into a bitter smile.

"She wouldn’t call me sweetheart, wouldn’t smile at me—just lay there, silent."

His voice was low, each word laced with pain.

"No matter how I begged or what I did, she just... stayed like that.

No reaction.

No breath."

Even as he spoke, the agony of that dream still tore through him.

Sinclair knew it was just a nightmare.

But the image of Camilla lying there, cold and lifeless—it was unbearable.

His Camilla should never, could never, become like that.

Otherwise, he would become even more deranged than the version of himself in that dream.

In their past life, that was exactly what had happened.

Camilla froze.

But how could Sinclair have dreamed about their previous life?

A coincidence, or...?

Her heart ached as if someone were squeezing it mercilessly, the pain so sharp it stole her breath.

Biting her lip, she nearly confessed the secret she had been carrying—but at the last moment, the words twisted into an apology instead.

"...I’m sorry, sweetheart."

Something as unbelievable as reincarnation—how could she possibly convince him it was real?

More than that, she couldn’t bear to let him know just how despicable she had been in their past life.

"It was just a nightmare, Camilla.

You don’t need to apologize,"

Sinclair murmured, tilting her face up with gentle fingers.

His dark, obsidian eyes burned with an intensity that bordered on obsession.

"I know you would never leave me, never abandon me to face this world alone... right?"

"Right,"

she whispered.

"I won’t leave you alone."

Camilla placed her hand into Sinclair’s palm, their fingers intertwining tightly.

"Forever."

"Mm,"

Sinclair held her hand and pressed it against his chest, right over his heart.

"Forever."

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