Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire Chapter 169: Tamara’s call

They really were in a eting. Camilla noticed the projector in the center of the study, a mischievous glint flashing in her eyes.

"Honey, I’m starving," she said, walking over with her back to the others, her beautiful eyes curved into crescents as she gazed tenderly at Sinclair.

"Could you make sothing to eat?

I want it made by your hands."

She had already made up her mind.

If Sinclair refused, she wouldn’t let him into the bedroom tonight—let him go hungry for once.

But if he agreed, his subordinates would surely see him in a whole new light.

She was curious to see what he would choose.

The managers pretended to busy themselves, lowering their heads, but their ears were perked up, waiting to see how Sinclair would react.

"Alright,"

Sinclair replied, his lips curving slightly as he turned his gaze back to the screen and said calmly, "eting adjourned."

The executives: ?!!

They all looked up in astonishnt, unable to hide their shock.

Cooking for his wife instead of working?

If they hadn’t seen it with their own eyes, they would have doubted whether the man on the screen was really President Luther.

Camilla was also slightly surprised.

Not even a mont of hesitation?

Did sweetheart not care how his subordinates perceived him?

The video conference ended.

Sinclair rose from his seat, wrapping an arm around Camilla’s slender waist as they headed downstairs together.

"Let’s go."

"Sweetheart,"

Camilla murmured, thinking her husband was far too indulgent.

"You agreed just like that?"

"All you have to do is ask," Sinclair replied, lowering his head to press a kiss against the soft crown of her hair.

A faint, amused smirk curled at the corners of his lips.

"Anything but cooking would be fine."

"Just cooking will do!"

Camilla caught the underlying aning in the man’s words and gave him a light pat, her eyes crinkling with amusent as she teased,

"But sweetheart, aren’t you worried they’ll mistake you for a devoted husband, agreeing so quickly?"

Devoted husband. Sinclair’s dark eyes narrowed slightly, his voice calm and asured.

"I’m not."

"I know you’re not, but they don’t,"

Camilla tilted her head up, her sparkling eyes brimming with mischief.

"What if word gets around and your reputation

Before she could finish, the man’s voice cut in.

"Camilla."

Sinclair stopped walking, lowering his gaze to et hers, a quiet laugh in his voice.

"What I ant was—it’s not a misunderstanding."

Not a misunderstanding?

Camilla’s beautiful eyes widened slightly as realization dawned on her.

So sweetheart was admitting he’s a devoted husband?

"Let’s go," Sinclair effortlessly scooped his petite wife into his arms and continued downstairs.

"My queen,"

His deep, velvety voice whispered against Camilla’s ear, laced with an intoxicating sweetness that made her heart flutter uncontrollably.

A rosy blush spread across her cheeks.

The household staff in the living room imdiately took the hint and discreetly retreated outside.

Such scenes were becoming almost routine for them.

Sinclair gently settled Camilla onto the sofa before casually shrugging off his suit jacket and draping it aside.

"Wait here for . Won’t be long."

"Okay," Camilla’s eyes crinkled into crescents, her dimpled smile radiating pure delight.

Rolling up his sleeves, Sinclair strode into the kitchen with practiced ease, thodically gathering ingredients as he prepared to cook.

Even amidst the holy chaos of the kitchen, he maintained that aristocratic aloofness—an untouchable prince who seed to transcend his surroundings.

Of course, except for Camilla.

Both physically and spiritually, they were a perfect match. In the living room, the sudden buzz of a phone broke the silence.

Camilla reluctantly tore her gaze away from her husband and glanced down at the screen.

A mont later, the corners of her lips curled into a chilling smirk.

Reconciliation?

Not a chance.

"Mrs. Luther?"

Tamara’s frail voice ca through the phone.

"Mhm."

Camilla curled her lips slightly, her tone indifferent as she relayed the news she had obtained.

"You’re lying alone in the hospital with severe injuries, yet Margaret is happily dining at a high-end restaurant with his wife and child, enjoying their perfect little family mont."

She paused, her soft voice laced with unmistakable coldness.

"Seems you don’t an much to him after all."

Tamara remained silent, but her breathing grew noticeably heavier.

After a long pause, she finally murmured, "What do you want to do, Mrs. Luther?"

"It’s not about what I want.

It’s about what you should do."

Camilla narrowed her beautiful eyes, her words slow and deliberately casual.

"My people can’t guard you forever.

Once they leave, there’s no guarantee Margaret’s n won’t seize the opportunity to strike again."

A faint smirk played on her lips.

"The only person you can rely on now is Jonathan.

If even his heart shifts back to Margaret, you know what’ll happen to you—no need for to spell it out, right?"

Tamara’s pupils constricted sharply, her grip tightening around the phone.

"...I know what to do."

Camilla’s delicate face remained cool and composed.

She had given enough of a warning.

If Tamara still didn’t get it, then there was no point in continuing their arrangent.

The call ended.

Leaning her head on her hand, Camilla watched the tall, broad-shouldered figure moving in the kitchen, a soft smile returning to her lips.

Happiness—so people didn’t deserve it.

But others absolutely must have it.

Rising from the sofa, she walked up behind Sinclair and wrapped her arms around his waist.

"Sweetheart."

"Hmm?"

He didn’t pause his movents but straightened slightly to let her lean against him more comfortably, the corners of his lips lifting in a faint smile.

Resting her cheek against the solid warmth of his back, Camilla spoke in a tender yet solemn voice.

"I love you."

Sinclair’s hands stilled, his dark eyes threatening to swallow all the light before him.

"Camilla," His voice erged low and rough, as if dragged through gravel.

"I didn’t hear you clearly."

"Didn’t hear ?"

"Mmm."

His Adam’s apple bobbed with the quiet affirmation.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t heard—it was that he couldn’t get enough.

Understanding flickered in Camilla’s beautiful eyes as she released her grip around his waist.

In one fluid motion, she lifted his arm, ducked beneath it, and pressed herself flush against his chest, wrapping her arms around him properly this ti.

"Sweetheart."

She brushed her lips against his—once, twice—each word a breath against his mouth.

"I love you."

"I love you."

"I love you."

"Important things need to be said three tis. Did you get it now?"

"I got it."

Sinclair looked down at the person in his arms, the smile on his lips deepening.

"Camilla, I love you more."

He braced his hands on the table behind Camilla, leaning down to kiss her.

This kiss carried no trace of desire—only warmth and sweetness.

Not "I love you."

Not "I love you too."

But "I love you more."

Camilla closed her eyes, accepting his affection, yet she couldn’t help but argue in her heart.

No.

In this lifeti, the one who loves more... is clearly .

—— anwhile.

In the private dining room, a phone suddenly rang. Margaret paused mid-bite, her intuition screaming at her.

That call was definitely from that bitch.

Just as she suspected, Jonathan’s expression shifted the mont he saw the caller ID.

"Go ahead without ," he said, rising from the table.

"I need to take this."

"Jonathan."

Margaret reached out, her fingers tightening around his sleeve.

"Whatever it is, can’t it wait until after dinner?"

Her voice was light, but her grip betrayed her unease.