Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire Chapter 103: Tyler and Sandra Scandal

"That illegitimate son Jonathan brought along is utterly disgraceful."

"Grandpa Luther’s birthday banquet hasn’t even ended, and he’s already fooling around with a woman in one of the rooms."

"That woman certainly knows how to seduce n, but she clearly didn’t raise her son with any decency."

Several society matrons returned to the main hall and imdiately huddled together, dissecting the scandal that had unfolded in the lounge.

They spoke without lowering their voices, making no effort to conceal their gossip.

After all, nothing spreads faster than secrets and scandals.

In no ti, the entire banquet hall had caught wind of Tyler’s misbehavior.

To be fair, every prominent family had its share of reckless playboys.

At that age—full of restless energy and lacking nothing—it wasn’t unusual for young n to indulge in so mischief.

But soone like Tyler, who couldn’t even be bothered to wait for an appropriate ti and place? That was rare.

Whispers rippled through the crowd, expressions ranging from amusent to disdain.

"Who knew the real entertainnt would co at the very end?

A Luther Family banquet never disappoints."

"I wonder who the woman was. Every family here tonight is well-connected."

"Just see which young lady is missing from the crowd—that should tell you everything."

"How could we possibly keep track of so many people?

All I know is that Miss Sandra left quite a while ago.

Surely it couldn’t be her?"

"Exactly.

That Miss Sandra has impossibly high standards.

Apart from that one person, she doesn’t give anyone else a second glance—let alone so illegitimate child who can’t even show his face in decent company."

anwhile.

The door to the room where Tyler and the others were gathered swung open from the outside.

"Who gave you permission to co in?"

Jonathan, his mind in turmoil, turned toward the intruder with a sharp rebuke.

"Get the hell—"

The last word died on his lips as his gaze landed on the man’s striking, aristocratic features.

"What are you doing here?!"

After what had happened at the old mansion that afternoon, Jonathan had co to a stark realization—Sinclair truly wouldn’t hesitate to kill him. Now, facing his son again, he couldn’t help but feel a prickle of unease.

*That little bastard—how did he get here so fast?*

Margaret stared at Sinclair, an inexplicable sense of dread creeping over her. Her hands, hanging at her sides, clenched involuntarily.

Sinclair ignored Jonathan’s question.

Without a word, he strode past him and stepped into the room.

Behind him followed several rcenaries with cold, stern expressions.

Sandra strode to the bedside, his dark, narrow eyes sweeping over Tyler and Sandra with icy detachnt.

"In such a hurry that you couldn’t even wait for the banquet to end?"

His voice was sharp as a blade, dripping with frost, sending chills down the spine of anyone who heard it.

Tyler glared back at him, his expression dark and venomous, yet laced with an undercurrent of fear.

The plan he and his mother had devised was airtight.

Only a handful of trusted confidants knew about it—people who would never betray them.

So how the hell did Sinclair and Camilla find out?

And why didn’t they expose him?

Why help him instead?! "N-no, it’s not like that, Sinclair!"

Sandra trembled under the weight of his undisguised scorn and disgust, humiliation and fury making her voice shake.

"It was Tyler! He set up—they all plotted against !

You have to believe !"

"Set you up?"

Jonathan’s brow furrowed deeply.

"Sandra, what exactly are you saying?"

"Tyler," Sandra ignored Jonathan’s words, struggling to sit up as she reached desperately for Sinclair.

Tears and snot streaked her face, her voice raw with hysteria.

"Kill them for —kill them now!!"

The blanket covering her slipped away with her frantic movents, revealing unmistakable marks of passion scattered across her skin.

Margaret’s temple twitched. Jonathan frowned deeply, shooting Tyler a sharp, accusatory glare—clearly demanding an explanation for how things had gotten to this state.

Tyler’s expression darkened, but he remained silent. None of those marks on Sandra had anything to do with him.

Yet this was exactly the scene they had intended to create.

For now, he had no choice but to swallow his words and bear the bla—at least until later. "If you don’t plan on keeping those hands,"

Sinclair’s gaze was glacial as it fell on Sandra’s outstretched fingers, as if she were sothing filthy.

"Then by all ans, keep reaching."

If not for his desire to prolong her suffering, he would have sent this woman straight to hell long ago.

The chilling aura radiating from Sinclair seed to freeze the entire room.

Jonathan and the others couldn’t help but shudder involuntarily.

"Sinclair—" Sandra stood frozen in place, her face twisted with hurt as she stared at him.

She couldn’t believe it—even in her most pitiful state, this man still showed not an ounce of tenderness toward her.

"The two elders are waiting in the council hall," Sinclair said, ignoring Sandra entirely as he glanced at the rcenaries behind him.

"Take them there imdiately."

As he spoke, his piercing gaze lingered on Tyler for a brief mont before he turned and walked away.

From start to finish, he didn’t spare Sandra so much as a second glance. Her lips pressed into a tight, trembling line, her face flushing crimson with humiliation.

"Yes, sir." Several rcenaries, their expressions cold and unyielding, stepped forward toward Tyler and Sandra—clearly intending to escort them just as they were.

"President Luther."

"Stop right there!" Margaret hurried forward, her face pale with panic as she blocked the path of several rcenaries.

"All of you, stay back!

They—they’re not even dressed yet!"

She wanted the news to spread through others’ mouths, but she couldn’t bear the thought of them seeing her son in such a humiliating state.

"Apologies," The lead rcenary, a young man, didn’t slow his steps, clearly dismissing Margaret’s words without a second thought.

"President Luther’s orders—we take them now."

Of course, that was just the official line.

President Luther wouldn’t have minded waiting a minute or two.

The real reason for their ruthless efficiency?

A little nudge from Ramsey.

Ramsey’s exact words had been: *"These people crossed Madam.

They’re already done for—no need to spare them any courtesy."

The rcenaries, their expressions icy, strode to the bedside and reached out to haul Tyler and Sandra out without hesitation.

"Ah—!"

Sandra had never suffered such indignity in her life.

Eyes blazing with fury and humiliation, she glared at the rcenaries.

"How dare you lay your filthy hands on ?

Have you lost your damn mind?"

She was completely exposed, not a stitch of clothing to shield her.

The thought of being seen like this by so many n was unbearable.

She’d rather die than endure such humiliation!

Margaret also fought desperately to stop them.

The room instantly descended into chaos, like a henhouse under siege.

Tyler remained silent, his jaw clenched tight.

He knew words were useless—these n wouldn’t listen to him anyway.

In their eyes, only Sinclair mattered.

"Stop this right now!!"

Jonathan suddenly stepped forward, shoving several of the rcenaries aside with a furious snarl.

"Today is the old master’s birthday banquet.

The guests outside are all dignitaries.

If you drag them out like this, you’ll disgrace both the Luther and Porter families!"

His expression darkened with nace.

"You may not care about our reputation, but do you dare ignore the face of the two patriarchs?"

At the ntion of the elders, the leader’s eyes flickered with hesitation.

"Stand down," He cast a cold glance at the group and spoke icily.

"We’ll wait outside.

Three minutes."

The ultimatum was clearly directed at Jonathan and the others.

Margaret watched their retreating figures, his jaw clenched so tightly that the tendons in his temples stood out like steel cords.

Never in his wildest dreams had he imagined— That one day, he would stoop so low as to grovel before these lowly underlings.

"Jonathan, you should go too," Margaret interjected smoothly.

"I’ll stay behind and help out here."

Jonathan shot Tyler a glare brimming with fury before storming out without another word.

**BANG!*

* The door slamd shut with violent finality, sealing away the absurdity within.