Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire Chapter 237: Mr. Sinclair is behaving strangely

The dimly lit room was heavy with silence.

On the bed, Sinclair lay deeply ensnared in a nightmare.

In his dream, he watched from a godlike perspective as another version of himself—face shadowed with malice—clutched Camilla’s slender throat.

"Camilla," he murmured, his voice low and rough, thick with suppressed fury.

"Didn’t you promise to stay with ?

That you’d never leave alone?"

His narrowed eyes burned with intensity.

"Why are you running away?"

"Haven’t I treated you well enough?"

"You have," Camilla whispered, her body trembling slightly.

"But your kindness suffocates . It’s too much to bear."

Tears welled in her beautiful eyes, though she fought to hold them back.

Her gaze was a storm of unspoken emotions. "Sinclair, you know this isn’t love."

"It is," Sinclair’s rationality shattered in an instant, his narrow obsidian eyes narrowing into a dangerously obsessive slant.

"Camilla, you—!!"

The next mont, his hand that had been gripping Camilla’s throat shifted to seize her chin instead.

With a madness born of love, he crushed his lips against hers.

Camilla’s beautiful eyes widened in shock as she struggled desperately, sinking her teeth hard into Sinclair’s lip.

A crimson stain of blood instantly blood between their tangled lips.

Yet Sinclair seed impervious to the pain. Not only did he not stop, his movents grew even more forceful, as though he wanted to ld her entire being into his very bones and blood.

Panicked, Camilla raised her hand and slapped him hard across the face.

The sharp crack of the blow echoed starkly through the empty room.

Camilla’s lashes fluttered faintly. Sinclair stilled, the thin cut on his lips sared with blood, lending him an almost predatory air.

"I—I didn’t an to," Seizing the mont, Camilla wrenched free from his grasp and shrank into the corner of the bed, her trembling voice betraying her fear.

Fear? Sinclair’s lips curved into a humorless smile, his faintly bloodshot eyes dark with bitterness and self-mockery.

"You shouldn’t be afraid, Camilla.

I would never hurt you, would I?"

Camilla looked at Sinclair, her heart suddenly twisting with a sharp pang as waves of bittersweet and complicated emotions surged within her.

"Sinclair, your illness is cured now.

My duty in marrying into the Luther Family is complete."

She tried to ignore the strange ache in her chest, her beautiful eyes flickering with uncertainty as she gazed at the man before her, a hint of pleading in her voice.

"Let go... please?"

Sinclair’s dark, fathomless eyes bore into Camilla with an intensity that made the air feel heavy.

After a long silence, he finally spoke, his voice rough and strained.

"...Alright."

"You—you’re agreeing?"

Camilla froze, disbelief and hope flashing in her eyes.

"You... you’re really letting leave?!"

"Mhm."

The corner of Sinclair’s lips curved slightly as he turned and walked toward a nearby drawer.

He pulled out a gleaming dagger, its cold edge catching the dim light.

"Have I ever lied to you, Camilla?"

Watching his movents and the way his features seed half-shrouded in shadow, Camilla felt an icy dread creep into her heart.

"What are you trying to do?"

"Since Camilla wants to leave," Sinclair gently grasped Camilla’s hand, placing a dagger in her palm..

His voice was tender, laced with a faint smile, as if whispering sweet nothing.

"I’m helping you."

"No," Camilla shook her head, trying to pull her hand away and drop the blade.

"Let go of —now."

"This life was saved by you.

You have every right to take it back," Sinclair tightened his grip, his fingers pressing firmly against hers, refusing to let her retreat.

"Camilla," Sinclair gazed at Camilla, his bloodstained lips curling into a twisted yet srizing smile.

"Kill ," He pressed the spot over his heart against the dagger clutched in Camilla’s hand.

"This way... no one can stand in your way anymore."

As Sinclair leaned closer, the razor-sharp blade gradually pierced his flesh.

Warm crimson blood trickled down, staining both their intertwined hands.

"Sinclair, let go—!"

Camilla’s widened eyes instantly welled up with tears, her face pale with terror as she shook her head desperately. "Have you lost your mind?!

Stop this—!!"

Ignoring her pleas, Sinclair continued advancing toward her.

By the ti the dagger fully sank into his body, he had already pulled her into a crushing embrace.

"Why are you crying again?"

He rested his chin against the crook of her neck, slowly closing his eyes.

His voice was hoarse, thick with unspoken anguish.

"I’m letting you go.

You should be happy about this."

"Sinclair, you’re insane! A complete and utter madman!!"

Camilla was utterly terrified. As a doctor, she knew exactly how dangerous Sinclair’s condition was.

"Soone!

Help!

Ramsey!!"

anwhile, in the room outside the dreamscape.

"Mr. Luther, Mr. Luther."

Gerald noticed sothing was wrong—Sinclair’s brows furrowed deeper, his fists clenched tighter.

His expression darkened as he imdiately pulled out his phone.

"Bring the doctors here.

Now!"

"Yes, sir!"

Minutes later, two doctors rushed in.

"Check on Mr. Luther imdiately," Gerald commanded, his voice icy and grave.

"Did sothing go wrong with the sedatives?"

"Yes, sir."

The two doctors imdiately grabbed their professional instrunts and began a thorough examination.

Yet, they found nothing wrong.

Just as everyone was preparing to transfer Sinclair to the Luther Family’s private hospital, the strikingly handso man slowly opened his eyes. ——

anwhile, at the Luther Family estate.

Camilla had just finished washing up and was about to step out of the bathroom when a sharp, stabbing pain suddenly seized her heart.

"Ah—"

She clutched her chest, bracing herself against the wall as she sank to her knees.

But instead of easing, the suffocating ache only grew more intense.

Her beautiful eyes trembled slightly.

This kind of heart-wrenching pain had struck her twice before.

The first ti was when she was in her spectral form, watching Sinclair embrace her lifeless body and take his own life.

The second ti...

Was after her rebirth, the first mont she laid eyes on Sinclair again.

But now, for no reason at all—why was this happening?

On the other side.

"President Luther," Gerald’s face lit up with relief as he saw Sinclair’s eyes flutter open.

"You’re awake?!"

"Mmm," Sinclair glanced down at his wrists and ankles, shackled with specialized restraints, his gaze darkening like a gathering storm.

"Did I... have another episode?"

His voice was hoarse, as if he hadn’t spoken in ages.

Has President Luther forgotten his recent breakdown?

This was the first ti such a thing had happened.

After a brief hesitation, Gerald nodded imdiately.

"Yes, sir!"

He stepped forward promptly to unlock the restraints binding Sinclair’s limbs.

Pushing himself upright, Sinclair leaned against the headboard, his strikingly handso features half-concealed in the shadows.

"Where’s Camilla?"

The fact that President Luther didn’t even know his wife’s whereabouts struck Gerald as odd.

He froze for a mont, an inexplicable sense of unfamiliarity washing over him as he studied the man before him.

His brows furrowed unconsciously.

"Madam is in the capital."

Sinclair’s expression darkened, his sharp, brooding gaze locking onto Gerald.

"Are you saying... we’re *not* in the capital right now?"