Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 326: After my deal with Mr. Luther I will retire so I can be with your sister

Chapter 326: After my deal with Mr. Luther I will retire so I can be with your sister

The study was enveloped in silence.

"Vicente,"

Taylor sat alone on the sofa, his dark eyes as still as a lifeless lake.

"My life is what it is, but Melissa is different," His voice was low and deliberate.

"All I want for the rest of her life is for her to have peace and happiness."

The quiet air carried a faint weight of oppression.

Vicente lowered his gaze, idly toying with the bracelet Melissa had wrapped around his wrist.

His handsome features showed no trace of surprise.

"Taylor,"

His tone was calm and steady.

"Do you trust me?"

Taylor leaned back lazily in his chair, a faint smile flickering in his dark eyes.

"Of course I do."

Only then did Vicente lift his eyes to meet Taylor’s gaze, his deep, obsidian eyes filled with unwavering sincerity.

"Once the Luther Family deal is concluded, I’ll retire from this line of work."

His voice was calm, but the tone carried unmistakable gravity.

"Oh?"

Taylor studied Vicente, his deep, inscrutable eyes veiled like mist, making his thoughts impossible to discern.

"Then I’ll be waiting to see it happen."

Taylor knew all too well how difficult it had been for Vicente, at such a young age, to rise to his current position.

Retirement meant throwing it all away.

If Vicente was willing to go that far for Melissa, then he had no real grounds to object. Outside the door.

Vicente... liked her? Melissa’s beautiful eyes widened in shock. Pressing a hand to her wildly pounding heart, she tiptoed away, desperate to escape.

The eavesdropped revelation left her utterly unsettled.

Of course, that was the only sentence she had truly absorbed.

The rest had been drowned out by the deafening rhythm of her own heartbeat.

Just as she was about to make a clean getaway from the study, the butler suddenly appeared from the hallway.

Upon seeing Melissa’s current state, the butler’s face was filled with understanding and resignation.

"Young miss, why are you—"

"Shh!"

Melissa immediately pressed a finger to her lips, her expression flustered.

"Don’t say a word—pretend you never saw me!"

Before he could respond, she dashed away in a hurry.

The butler watched her retreating figure and shook his head helplessly.

Even if he didn’t say anything, Mr. Taylor would find out.

Melissa never seemed to learn.

With a sigh, he turned and walked to the study, knocking lightly on the door.

"Sir—"

"Come in."

Taylor’s calm voice sounded from inside.

The butler pushed the door open and stepped in.

His gaze fell on Vicente, but not a trace of surprise flickered in his eyes.

"Mr. Vicente."

Vicente gave a slight nod, his gaze settling on Taylor.

"I’ll take my leave now."

Vicente rose from his seat, a faint smirk playing at the corners of his lips as he spoke in a measured tone.

"If there’s anything I can do to help with the matter of Melissa’s attack, don’t hesitate to ask."

Taylor nodded, his lips curving into a composed, almost serene smile.

"Of course."

After Vicente left, the study fell into silence once more.

Taylor leaned back into the plush sofa, lifting a hand to massage his temples with deliberate, weary motions. "Go ahead. What is it?"

"Several branch family heads of the Taylor family have sent word that they’re feeling unwell and won’t be able to attend the upcoming meeting."

"So unwell they can’t even make it to a meeting?

Must be quite serious, then."

Taylor’s lips curled into a slow, languid smile, his voice dripping with feigned concern.

"Dispatch ambulances immediately.

Have them taken to the hospital for thorough treatment—and make sure they don’t leave until they’re fully recovered."

A masterstroke, indeed.

The butler immediately understood Mr. Taylor’s unspoken command.

"I’ll have someone take care of it right away," he replied with a respectful nod.

Taylor lowered his gaze and retrieved a cigarette from his coat, placing it between his lips before lighting it.

A slow, deliberate exhale sent pale tendrils of smoke curling from his mouth and nostrils.

"Any news from Sinclair yet?" he asked, his voice calm but edged with quiet intensity.

"Not yet,"

The butler shook his head, his expression grim.

"They said it won’t be until ten o’clock tonight."

Ten o’clock.

Taylor could only hope everything would go smoothly.

Otherwise, not only would he lose a close friend, but the entire Luther Family—and perhaps even the capital—would be thrown into chaos.

Taylor narrowed his eyes slightly but said nothing more.

Yet the aura around him grew palpably colder and more oppressive.

"Sir, there’s one more thing," the butler ventured cautiously, studying Taylor’s reaction.

Under Taylor’s gaze, he continued,

"Our people have successfully obtained a blood sample from that young boy. What would you like us to..."

Taylor’s hand, holding the cigarette, paused almost imperceptibly before resuming its usual steadiness.

"Have someone come collect it."

There were certain matters he needed to clarify.

"Yes," The butler was about to leave.

"Wait."

Taylor’s voice rang out again, halting his steps.

"Don’t let Melissa find out about Violet."

Understanding flashed in the butler’s eyes.

After the incident all those years ago, Taylor had fallen gravely ill.

Back then, Melissa—still underage—had nearly sent someone to kill Miss Violet.

In the end, it was Taylor, despite his failing health, who had intervened and stopped her.

"Rest assured, sir. I understand."

—— Luther Family Manor.

As time passed, the pain inside Camilla grew increasingly unbearable.

Her face was deathly pale, her entire body drenched in cold sweat.

Despite his best efforts to restrain himself, his entire body trembled uncontrollably.

Sinclair pressed his thin lips tightly together as he held Camilla in his arms.

His strikingly handsome face, usually sharp with intensity, was now entirely shrouded in shadow.

His body grew increasingly rigid, tension coiling through him like a spring.

It was all his fault.

Because of him, Camilla was suffering like this.

Those people were right—anyone who got close to him would be cursed by misfortune. Sinclair was a harbinger of doom.

Veins bulged along the back of Sinclair’s hands and his neck, his usually composed features strained to the breaking point.

His narrow, piercing eyes darkened with a faint crimson hue.

Camilla sensed the turmoil within him and wrapped her arms around him even tighter.

"Sweetheart—"

"I’m here,"

Sinclair pulled her close, his deep voice rough with emotion.

"Camilla, I’m right here."

"Kiss me,"

Camilla murmured against his chest, her lips parting slightly, soft and inviting.

"My heart aches... Kiss me, will you?"

Before the words fully left her lips, Sinclair had already bent down to capture her mouth in a searing kiss.

This kiss was nothing like before—it was unbearably tender, achingly slow, as if pouring his entire soul into it.

And beneath that tenderness lingered something else, something unspoken: regret.

Camilla responded softly, her tightly knitted brows easing slightly under his touch.

It was as though the love radiating from him could somehow soothe the pain tearing through her.

"Sweetheart, don’t be afraid.

I’m alright," she murmured when they finally parted, her fingers tracing the sharp, shadowed contours of his striking face.

Her voice was featherlight, barely more than a whisper.

"This too shall pass."

A frail smile tugged at her lips, her voice as delicate as the evening breeze.

"Once the Life bound poison completes its transfer, we’ll share the same fate—bound in life and death.

Isn’t that... romantic?"

Bound in life.

Bound in death.

Just as they had been in their past life.

And now, history repeated itself.

Perhaps this was destiny.

Sinclair reached out and gently stroked his hair, his voice dropping to a husky whisper.

"Mm."

Outside the room, Grandpa Luther was pacing anxiously.

"Grandpa, you should eat something," urged Uncle Carlos, presenting a tray of freshly prepared food from the kitchen.

"If this goes on, you’ll collapse before Mr. Sinclair and his wife haven’t even came out."

"Can’t stomach it," grandpa muttered, shaking his head with a weary, frosty expression.

"Take it away."

In the end, it was only when Aunt Naomi brought Carie Ann over that Grandpa Luther reluctantly sipped a few spoonfuls of soup.

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