Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire Chapter 158: Meeting an old friend called Antonio Mega

What?

She wasn’t blaming her?

The young waitress froze in disbelief, her eyes widening before she quickly nodded, her lashes damp with unshed tears.

"Thank you... thank you so much."

Antonio’s gaze lingered on Camilla, unsurprised.

He had always known—this was just like her, endlessly kind. Camilla offered the flustered girl a gentle smile.

"Go on with your work."

The waitress murmured another round of grateful thanks before hurrying away.

Casually dabbing at the coffee stains on her clothes, Camilla finally turned back to Antonio.

"Sorry, Senior ga," she said with an apologetic laugh.

"I think I’ll have to cut this short and change it first."

She t his eyes warmly.

"Next ti, dinner is on —I promise."

After all the help he’d given her during university, treating him to a al was the least she could do.

We’ll bring Fanny along when the ti cos.

"You don’t even have my contact info right now," Antonio’s lips curled into a gentle, teasing smile as he looked at Camilla.

"Not very sincere of you, junior."

"My bad," Camilla suddenly rembered and quickly pulled out her phone to add his contact.

"Well then, Senior ga, see you around."

"Mhm, take care."

Antonio remained where he stood, his dark eyes fixed intently on Camilla’s retreating figure.

The smile on his lips gradually faded.

He had seen it clearly—just now, Camilla hadn’t instinctively dodged the coffee.

She dodged his outstretched hand.

"No matter. I have plenty of ti.

This ti, I won’t let history repeat itself like it did years ago."

His low voice carried an unmistakable tone of determination.

anwhile, inside the silver-gray Rolls-Royce... "

Madam," The driver noticed the coffee stains on Camilla’s clothes and couldn’t hide his surprise.

"Would you like to return to the manor to change first?"

"No need," Camilla replied, rubbing the sore spot on her lower back where she’d been bumped.

Through the car window, her lips curved into a faint smile as she gazed at the towering Luther Corporation building in the distance.

"Take to the company."

Just knowing Sinclair was nearby made her eager to see him.

Everything else could wait.

anwhile, at the suburban villa... A tallic creak echoed as the door swung open. The stench of blood and decay hit them like a wave.

Ramsey’s nose wrinkled in disgust.

Sinclair, however, remained expressionless, striding inside with his long legs.

The dim lighting cast shifting shadows across his striking features, making his handso face seem almost unreal.

Tied spread-eagle to a cross, Micheal’s face was so swollen it was barely recognizable.

His eyes were tightly shut, completely unaware of their arrival.

Clearly, he had long since passed out.

His exposed skin was covered in grueso, horrifying wounds—a sight that sent chills down the spine.

The tattered shirt clinging to his body was so thoroughly soaked in blood that its original color was impossible to discern.

Under the harsh glare of the lights, his entire being exuded an aura of death.

Ramsey observed the scene without a trace of pity in his eyes.

The things this man had done were enough to warrant death a thousand tis over.

Every consequence he faced now was entirely of his own making.

Sinclair crossed his long legs as he settled into the only chair in the room, lighting a cigarette with deliberate calm.

"Wake him up."

His voice was devoid of warmth, carrying a bone-chilling coldness that made the air itself seem to freeze.

"Yes, sir!"

Without hesitation, one of the rcenaries grabbed a specially crafted barbed whip from nearby and lashed it rcilessly across Micheal’s body.

Once.

Twice.

With each strike, flecks of torn flesh could be seen clinging to the barbs as the whip recoiled.

Sinclair watched impassively, his striking features half-shadowed in the dim light, an intimidating presence that made others avert their gaze.

"Ugh—" By the third strike, Micheal’s body began to tremble violently.

A pained groan escaped his lips before his eyes fluttered open, slow and dazed.

"Ugh... ugh..."

Micheal raised his head and caught sight of that aloof, aristocratic figure seated not far away.

His pupils constricted violently.

Sinclair was here?

Did he know about the Life-Linked poison?

No... impossible.

Camilla understood Sinclair’s temperant all too well—she would never dare tell him.

With his jaw dislocated, Micheal could only produce incoherent, guttural noises.

No one could decipher what he was trying to say.

Sinclair exhaled sharply, as if expelling sothing vile from his mouth, then turned his gaze toward Ramsey.

"...Understood."

Ramsey grasped his aning instantly.

Though reluctant, he steeled himself and stepped forward to stand before Micheal.

*Crack.*

A crisp snap echoed as Micheal’s jaw was reset.

Ramsey shot Micheal a venomous glare before retreating to the side, his lowered eyes brimming with anxiety and dread.

"Pfft—"

Micheal spat out a mouthful of blood, then lifted his gaze to et Sinclair’s.

His eyes were utterly lifeless.

"Sinclair," he rasped, his voice hoarse as if scraped raw by sandpaper—whether from thirst or sothing else.

Yet beneath the roughness, the shadow of madness was unmistakable.

"Are you here to kill ?"

"Go ahead.

Kill , and it all ends."

He had planned to use the Life Bound poison inside him to threaten Camilla into releasing him and leaving Sinclair.

He wanted Sinclair to taste that sa despair of abandonnt and betrayal all over again—to never trust another soul, to push everyone away, to rot forever in the abyss with no hope of escape.

If he couldn’t have him, he’d ruin him.

Let no one else lay a finger on what was his.

But that damned little bitch Camilla had thrown his plans into chaos.

She hadn’t even given him a chance to bargain—just tossed him here to suffer a fate worse than death.

If she wouldn’t let him live, then he’d drag Sinclair down with him.

Let that wretched woman spend the rest of her life alone, drowning in regret.

The thought twisted Micheal’s expression into sothing even more deranged.

*Damn it!!*

*This lunatic!!*

Ramsey was practically itching to cut Micheal’s tongue out right then and there.

"Kill you?"

Sinclair exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his piercing dark eyes fixed on Micheal with the cold detachnt of soone observing an insect.

"You’re not even worth killing.