Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire Chapter 337: Difference between Love and Heartbreak

"Camilla..."

Sinclair’s heart ached in resonance with Camilla’s distress, a dull throb tightening his chest.

His dark eyes brimd with restrained emotion and tenderness.

"I knew what I was doing," he murmured, his voice softening to a velvety whisper as he gently wiped the tears from her delicate cheeks.

"The wounds look worse than they are—none of them are deep."

"Don’t cry, alright?"

To him, her tears were more devastating than any weapon.

"I’m the doctor here," Camilla countered, her red-rimd eyes fixed on him, tears cascading like scattered pearls.

"I decide how serious your injuries are—not you."

Her gaze dropped to his wounds, tender yet firm, her voice laced with quiet authority.

"Tell the truth—did you do this to yourself while I was unconscious?"

Her tone left no room for evasion, sharp with command.

In all of San Francisco, she was likely the only one who could speak to Sinclair this way.

And of course, she was.

Sinclair would only lower his head willingly in front of her.

"Camilla—"

As Sinclair watched the tears streaming down Camilla’s face, the pain in his chest grew increasingly unbearable—both physically and emotionally.

When he spoke again, his voice carried a tinge of helplessness.

Seeing that Sinclair wasn’t planning to answer, Camilla frowned deeply.

"Sweetheart, I don’t want to hear vague answers," she said, her dark, clear eyes fixed intently on his, reflecting his image as she slowly repeated her words.

"I just need you to tell —did you cut that wound yourself while I was unconscious?"

"Yes."

Sinclair knew that if he kept hiding the truth, Camilla would only grow angrier.

With a quiet sigh in his heart, he answered plainly.

"At the ti, I thought... since Camilla cares about the most, she wouldn’t bear to stay unconscious if she knew I was hurt."

His slender fingers reached out, gently brushing away the tears on Camilla’s delicate cheeks.

His lips curved into a tender smile as his gaze lingered on her.

"And then you woke up.

So, in the end, it worked, didn’t it?"

Of course, that wasn’t the whole truth.

What he had really thought at the ti was—if Camilla didn’t wake up, he might as well drive the blade deeper.

Whether it was pain or death, he would not hesitate to accompany her.

But before that, he needed excruciating pain to keep himself awake—awake enough to watch Camilla clearly.

Of course, he had no intention of telling her any of this.

"When I was unconscious, I didn’t know anything.

What you did was reckless!"

Camilla’s heart felt as if it had been subrged in water, an indescribable ache tightening her chest.

Her eyes welled up as she glared at Sinclair, her voice trembling with emotion.

"Promise —next ti—no, never. Never hurt yourself like this again."

Sinclair’s lips curved slightly as he gazed at her, his deep eyes as calm and fathomless as a still pool.

"As long as you’re safe, I won’t do anything reckless."

But if anything happened to Camilla, whether he was hurt or not wouldn’t matter anymore.

Camilla looked into those obsidian eyes, filled with an almost obsessive devotion, and understood.

There were many things Sinclair didn’t say, but she knew.

Because she felt the sa.

Wordlessly, Camilla pressed her lips tenderly against his wound, as if willing it to heal faster.

The soft, delicate touch lted Sinclair’s heart completely.

Neither spoke, yet the silence between them was warm, enveloping.

In this mont, their eyes, their minds, their hearts—held only each other.

Love is a blessing.

But not everyone is fortunate enough to experience it.

At that mont, inside KING Club.

Calvin sat at the table, downing glass after glass of liquor.

The food beside him remained untouched.

His strikingly handso face was devoid of any expression, an eerie calmness enveloping him.

After all these years of friendship, it was the first ti Taylor had seen Calvin so utterly dejected.

Amusing, really.

Leaning back in his chair, Taylor swirled his wine glass with elegant, slender fingers.

His warm, composed eyes studied his friend with faint amusent, a subtle smile playing on his lips.

Interesting.

"Taylor," Calvin refilled his glass, drained it in one go, then shot his friend a disgruntled look.

"Are we even friends?"

"Of course," Taylor smirked, bringing the glass to his lips for a asured sip.

His voice, as always, was smooth and impeccable—leaving no room for reproach.

"Otherwise I wouldn’t be here."

A bitter, self-deprecating smirk curled at the corners of Calvin’s lips, his devilishly handso features twisting with unconcealed irony.

"Here to watch make a fool of myself?"

"Well, you’re not wrong," Taylor replied, his smile deepening as he lit a cigarette and took a slow drag.

The teasing lilt in his normally gentle voice was unmistakable.

"So it’s because of Tiffany?

Never thought I’d see the day—our legendary playboy, who’s plucked flowers from every garden, finally getting tangled up with so innocent little daisy."

"Better a daisy than a man-eating orchid," Calvin drawled, slouching back into his chair with lazy grace.

His eyes, glazed with just the right amount of intoxication, glead with quiet amusent as he regarded his friend.

With a careless swirl of his glass, the amber liquor caught the warm glow of the lights, casting shimring reflections in his upturned, peach-blossom eyes.

"I heard," he murmured, the ice in his drink clinking softly, "that Violet is back in town."

The capital was a small place, after all.

When he wanted to know sothing, it never took long to find out.

It never occurred to that she’d dare to co back.

So people and so mories leave wounds that never fully heal.

Calvin’s "counterattack" had struck right at the heart of the matter.

At the ntion of Violet’s na, the smile on Taylor’s lips faded, his warm eyes cooling with a hint of frost.

Calvin, ever perceptive, noticed the shift in his friend’s mood and smirked.

"Now that’s more like you."

The mory of those words—"

Calvin, we’re not right for each other"—still left a bitter taste in his mouth.

Funny how he hadn’t even bothered to ask why they weren’t right for each other back then.

Calvin picked up the bottle and poured himself another drink.

Taylor didn’t touch the alcohol. Instead, his slender, pale fingers plucked a cigarette from the pack and brought it to his lips, lighting it with practice ease.

Pale gray smoke curled from his mouth and nose, veiling his refined, jade-like features behind a hazy shroud.

Every movent carried the effortless charm of a mature man.

The tense atmosphere was abruptly shattered by the ringing of a phone.

Whose phone?

Calvin arched a brow, glancing at his own dark screen before reaching for a cigarette.

His dark eyes narrowed as he took a slow drag.

The corners of his lips curled slightly, revealing an unmistakable trace of self-mockery.

Taylor glanced at the caller ID and answered without hesitation.

"What is it?"

"Sir,"

ca the butler’s voice, laced with urgency through the phone.

"Ms lissa has shaken off her escorts.

We don’t know where she’s gone, and her phone is unreachable."

During Mr. Vincent’s stay, Ms lissa had been unusually well-behaved.

But no sooner had they bid Mr. Vincent farewell than she imdiately pulled another vanishing act.

That girl was growing more willful by the day.

Taylor crushed the half-smoked cigarette in his hand, his expression darkening further.

"Deploy surveillance on all vehicles and routes leaving the estate.

Report the mont you find her."

Taylor didn’t believe his sister was clever enough to evade the extensive monitoring network woven across the Taylor family estate.

This ti, he wouldn’t let her off so easily.