Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 341: Who gave you the audacity to detain even me?!"

In the eyes of someone who loves you, you’re better than any other girl in the world—far from ordinary.

Tiffany gazed at her best friend, deeply moved.

"But Camilla,

he doesn’t lack women who adore him."

"What he lacks is a woman he truly loves," Camilla replied softly.

"Sweetheart once told me that despite Calvin’s playboy reputation, he’s never actually been in a relationship before.

Calvin takes love seriously."

You could say he’s the epitome of "walking through a garden of flowers without a single petal sticking to him."

Of course, this "walking through" never involved anything beyond appearances.

And that’s precisely why she felt comfortable letting her best friend explore things with Calvin.

Tiffany’s thick lashes fluttered slightly, her face a picture of astonishment.

She’d seen plenty of tabloid headlines about the Calvin heir’s revolving door of girlfriends—how could someone like that have never dated before?!

Shock aside, she knew Camilla would never lie to her.

"And Fanny," Camilla squeezed her hand gently, her warm palm radiating reassurance.

"A family like Calvin doesn’t need to gain anything through marriage, so there’s no such thing as social status compatibility.

You can tell just from grandma.

Calvin’s attitude," She paused, her gentle voice laced with sincerity.

"With Calvin, all you need to consider is whether you like him or not."

She wanted Fanny to let go of all her psychological burdens and simply treat her relationship with Calvin as an ordinary matter of the heart.

Tiffany remained silent for a dozen seconds before nodding solemnly, a faint smile finally gracing her lips. "I understand.

Thank you, Camilla."

Noticing her friend’s relief, Camilla also relaxed, leaning lazily against Tiffany as she murmured, "Between us, there’s no need for thanks."

The two leaned against each other, chatting and laughing, the atmosphere warm and harmonious.

Time slipped by unnoticed.

Sinclair switched the screen before him to the living room surveillance feed and saw his wife cozying up to someone else, her face radiant with laughter.

His handsome brows furrowed slightly.

Yet, seeing how happy his wife was, he lit a cigarette and leaned back in his seat, giving the two their space and time.

A faint displeasure lingered on his striking, refined features.

"Fanny," Camilla checked the time.

"What would you like to eat?

I’ll have the kitchen prepare it for you right away."

Her eyes curved into crescents.

"Or perhaps you’d prefer my signature dish?"

"I’ve got an online book club meeting tonight, so I’m afraid I’ll have to pass on that treat," Tiffany replied with a chuckle.

"Once you’re fully recovered, I’ll come over for dinner every day.

Though I wonder if the great Sinclair might have something to say about that?"

"Not at all," Camilla said, her red lips curling into a smile.

"As long as I’m happy, my sweetheart won’t object to anything."

"Tsk, tsk,"

Tiffany feigned exasperation.

"Alright, with all this sweetness, I won’t even need dinner."

After sharing a few more laughs, Tiffany grabbed her bag and left.

Only then did Sinclair descend the stairs, pausing at the landing to watch his wife return from seeing off her friend.

His dark eyes narrowed slightly.

"I thought you were going to leave with Tiffany."

Tsk tsk, the bitterness and jealousy are practically dripping from his words.

Camilla knew exactly how to handle this situation—she needed to soothe his ruffled feathers.

Without hesitation, she walked over and wrapped her arms around the man’s slender waist.

"I’m not going anywhere with anyone," she murmured, pressing closer.

"Wherever my husband is, that’s where I belong."

Sinclair remained silent, but the icy glint in his piercing eyes softened.

His strong arms encircled her delicate frame, pulling her tighter against him.

If Grandpa Luther had witnessed this scene, he would’ve undoubtedly shaken his head and muttered—*Look at this utterly besotted fool.*

Meanwhile.

Jonathan strode out of the company building and slid into the backseat of his sleek black sedan.

His bodyguards followed closely behind, piling into a second vehicle.

One after another, the two cars pulled away from the curb.

Yanking at his tie, Jonathan’s usual composed demeanor twisted into something darker, more venomous.

Despite Sinclair’s absence, his iron grip on the Luther Corporation remained unshaken.

Every move Jonathan had painstakingly planned over the years was now met with impossible resistance.

His eyes narrowed to slits as the realization settled in.

*This suffocating control—I’ve had enough of it!* With a sharp motion, he rolled down the window, letting the frigid night air rush in.

"Any news from the estate?"

Silence filled the car as the words hung in the air.

The driver gave no response, as if he hadn’t heard Jonathan’s question at all.

"I’m talking to you—are you deaf?"

Jonathan frowned, his displeasure evident as he glared at the rearview mirror.

What he saw made his pupils constrict in shock.

The driver wore a cap, and the lower half of his face—now visible—was that of a stranger.

In broad daylight, someone actually had the audacity to hijack his car so brazenly?!

"Who the hell are you?!"

Jonathan steadied himself while glancing into the rearview mirror to check on the car carrying his bodyguards.

To his shock, he saw that the vehicle had somehow been surrounded by several black Jeeps.

His face turned even paler.

"What do you want?"

The driver remained silent, only accelerating steadily.

Damn it!!

A surge of ruthless determination flashed through Jonathan’s mind as his hand crept toward his chest.

But before he could retrieve what he needed, the cold, dark barrel of a gun suddenly emerged from the driver’s side, aimed directly at him.

"Mr. Jonathan, I’d advise you not to make any rash moves.

Otherwise—"

The man cocked the gun with one hand. Goddammit! Jonathan froze instantly, his eyes burning with fury and malice.

"Are you after money, or is this about something else?"

The man in the driver’s seat remained silent, the gun aimed at Jonathan’s side showing no intention of being lowered.

Jonathan’s body stiffened, his face growing increasingly grim.

Jonathan had no idea who these people were or what they wanted, and he didn’t dare make another move.

If this guy really pulled the trigger, the consequences would far outweigh any potential gain.

The car sped toward the outskirts of the city, picking up speed with every passing second.

Jonathan turned his gaze to the window, his expression tense as he studied the route, his mind racing for a way out.

But the more he looked, the darker his expression became.

This was the road leading to the Luther Family villa! Could it be...

Sinclair?

In an instant, countless possibilities flashed through Jonathan’s mind, sending a chill down his spine.

Before long, the car came to a stop in a place he knew all too well.

But the figures guarding the entrance were anything but familiar.

All colors drained from Jonathan’s face.

Aside from Sinclair, he couldn’t believe anyone else could have taken control of the entire Luther estate so seamlessly—without so much as a whisper leaking out.

Had he... found out everything?

The man in the driver’s seat removed his baseball cap and turned around, the barrel of his gun still trained on Jonathan.

"Mr. Jonathan, kindly hand over any weapons you’re carrying."

At this point, the gun concealed in his coat was clearly useless.

Under the man’s piercing gaze, Jonathan slowly retrieved his firearm.

The man took it and tucked it into his own waistband.

Then, with a quick tap on the horn, the gate swung open in response.

As soon as the car came to a stop in the inner courtyard, someone immediately approached and opened the door from the outside.

A burly man with a stern, unyielding expression stared down at Jonathan.

"Mr. Jonathan, step out."

Jonathan exited the vehicle.

His hands hung stiffly at his sides, clenched into tight fists, veins bulging across the back—clear signs of his tension.

The man narrowed his eyes, his tone icy and commanding.

"Follow me."

Jonathan trailed behind him, heading toward the living room.

Though it was his own home, every step felt like an unbearable struggle.

Sinclair was a cold-blooded monster, capable of anything.

There was no telling what unspeakable act he might commit.

Jonathan had to find a way to alert his father and get help as soon as possible.

When Jonathan stepped into the living room, however, he found not Sinclair waiting for him, but Ramsey.

His brow twitched.

Before he could speak, Ramsey strode forward to meet him.

"Sir—"

Ramsey’s handsome face wore its usual professional mask, his tone as impeccably polite as ever.

Jonathan stood frozen for several seconds before steadying himself.

Fixing Ramsey with a hard stare, he spoke in a low, dangerous voice.

"Ramsey, what is the meaning of this?

Who gave you the audacity to detain even me?!"

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