Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire Chapter 369: The Arrival of Stephen Mega

"If I rember correctly," Sinclair’s voice was unhurried, yet laced with unmistakable mockery.

"You and Tiffany are rely acquaintances. This ’thank you’ isn’t yours to give."

Calvin: " Even now, he couldn’t resist twisting the knife in my heart?!

"I take it back. Goodbye."

The mont the call ended, he pressed a button on his desk.

Jey entered the office almost imdiately.

"Mr. Calvin—"

"Reschedule all etings and collaborations scheduled for the next week to today and tomorrow," Calvin commanded, his sharp eyes glinting with frost.

Jey knew exactly how packed the upcoming week was.

Compressing it into two days ant working around the clock without rest.

"Mr. Calvin, may I ask why?"

Calvin rose from the armchair and strode with asured steps toward the floor-to-ceiling window, standing silhouetted against the light.

The interplay of shadows danced across his strikingly handso, almost devilish features.

Only after Fanny’s accident had he realized how much more she ant to him than he’d ever imagined.

"I’m going to Country E."

Jey watched Calvin’s back, knowing persuasion was futile.

Jey swallowed his words.

"Understood.

I’ll make the arrangents imdiately." ——

Luther Family Manor.

Knock, knock, knock—

Knock, knock, knock—

Camilla entered the study, carrying a steaming cup of tea.

"Sinclair."

Though only two days had passed, she had visibly lost weight, her fra appearing even more delicate.

Sinclair’s steady gaze lingered on Camilla’s noticeably thinner face, his deep-set eyes darkening with a cold intensity.

Sinclair would make them pay for what they’d done to Camilla.

"Sweetheart, take a break and have so tea," she said softly.

Camilla set the herbal tea on the table before moving behind Sinclair to massage his shoulders.

"Has Jonathan made his move?"

No matter what, Jonathan was still Sinclair’s biological father.

Dealing with him wasn’t the sa as dealing with others.

No matter how much Sinclair hated him, it couldn’t be easy on his heart.

"Mhm."

Sinclair reached out, pulling her from behind into his lap.

His voice was gentle as he briefly summarized the current situation.

Yet in the shadows where Camilla couldn’t see, his deep, icy eyes sharpened into a dangerous glint.

"Sweetheart, I’m sorry," Camilla murmured softly, her voice laced with regret.

"This is all my fault."

If not for her, Antonio would never have targeted Fanny.

Sinclair would have had more ti to strategize instead of being forced to act so hastily.

The sheer pressure of purging the entire Luther Family of its rot was sothing she couldn’t even fathom.

"Camilla," Sinclair said, the cold edge in his gaze softening slightly at the sound of her voice.

Sinclair tilted her chin up, forcing her to et his eyes.

"Let tell you one more ti—"

"Neither Tiffany’s situation nor the Luther Family’s affairs are your fault," His slender, pale fingers gently caressed the strands of hair at the back of Camilla’s head, his movents tender, his voice deliberately softened.

"Don’t shoulder all the responsibility yourself."

No matter what happened, this man would always embrace her unconditionally.

Sinclair would always tell her—it wasn’t her fault.

Touched, Camilla’s heart still couldn’t fully relax. "

Jonathan has been scheming for years.

Jonathan must have his own hidden cards," she said, her gaze fixed intently on Sinclair, her voice even softer.

"Sweetheart, will you be in danger?"

"No," Sinclair replied, his cold voice lting into warmth as he looked into her eyes, which held only his reflection.

"I promise you."

"Okay."

Camilla’s long, thick lashes fluttered slightly.

After a brief silence, she leaned in slowly and pressed her lips to his. Sinclair’s dark eyes deepened.

The hand that had been stroking her hair now cradled the back of her head, pulling her closer as he deepened the kiss.

The comforting kiss carried no trace of desire, yet it was all the more tender and lingering.

It drew their hearts closer together, until they beat as one.

Ti seed to stretch into eternity.

When the kiss ended, Sinclair held Camilla quietly in his arms.

"Camilla," he murmured in a deep, steady voice, "I’ve already made arrangents regarding Antonio.

Tiffany is safe for now."

His tone was gentle, but his gaze remained solemn and unwavering.

Sinclair would pay any price to save Tiffany—except for Camilla.

"I understand.

I will," Camilla replied with a firm nod, fully grasping his aning.

After everything they had been through to reach this point, she wouldn’t recklessly throw it away.

anwhile, in Country E.

Due to the ti difference, while it was already noon in San Francisco, the morning light had only just begun to dawn here.

The man lounged in the expansive leather chair, his long legs clad in dark gray suit pants crossed at the ankles.

Between his slender, well-defined fingers, a half-smoked cigarette smoldered.

Antonio’s brows were tightly knit, his handso face clouded with displeasure.

"More of Stephen’s ddling?"

His voice was steady, but the tone was icy enough to send chills down one’s spine.

"Yes," the assistant confird with a grave nod.

Every year around this ti, Stephen would retreat to the mountain temple to pay homage to that woman, staying for a full month before descending.

It was precisely because of this annual ritual that Antonio had been able to carve out ti to handle Camilla’s affairs in San Francisco.

So why had he suddenly returned this ti?

And why had he abandoned his usual tactics, instead hounding him like a rabid dog—even going so far as to have his movents tailed?

What exactly was Stephen up to?

Antonio took a deep drag from his cigarette, then slowly exhaled.

Amid the swirling smoke, his eyes narrowed thoughtfully as he sank into contemplation.

Just then, his phone buzzed on the table.

Glancing at the caller ID, he plucked the cigarette from his lips with slender fingers and answered.

"Grandmother."

"Antonio."

A stern, aged voice ca through the line.

"Stephen is returning to the ancestral ho.

Put aside whatever you’re doing and co back."

"Returning to the ancestral ho?"

A cold glint flickered in Antonio’s slightly narrowed eyes.

Ever since Grandfather passed away, Stephen had never set foot in the old house.

Why would he suddenly decide to return now?

"What’s his excuse?"

"Stephen only said he’s coming for lunch."

Grandma ga’s voice dripped with undisguised loathing and wariness.

"That little bastard is up to sothing—we’d better keep our guard up."

The call ended. Antonio leaned back in his chair, his lips pressed into a thin line, his gaze distant and icy as he considered Stephen’s recent maneuvers.

After a mont, he rose, grabbed his suit jacket, and strode out.

"Take to the family estate."

His assistant hurried after him, silently noting how one crisis after another had erupted in just two days since their return to Country E.

Even matters concerning Miss Rodriguez had to be put on hold.

At the ga family estate, the matriarch sat at the head of the room, clad in a traditional black gown, her hair coiled into a low bun.

Her expression was serene, but her sharp eyes made it impossible to et her gaze directly.

In her gnarled, aged hands, she idly turned a string of white jade bodhi prayer beads.

Seated below her were a middle-aged couple—both dignified in appearance.

The man had a slightly portly fra and a gentle deanor.

The woman had a well-maintained figure and an elegant appearance, clearly a beauty in her younger days.

They were none other than Antonio’s parents.

The three were chatting warmly when they noticed Antonio entering, their eyes lighting up with smiles as they turned to him.

"Grandma, Dad, Mom."

"Antonio, you’re back. Co, sit with us," Mrs. ga said, her face brightening as she looked at her son.

"We were just talking about you with Grandma."

A faint smile played on Antonio’s lips as he took a seat across from them.

"Oh?

What about ?"

Though he asked, his eyes remained indifferent, betraying little genuine interest.

"About how it’s ti for you to settle down at your age," Mrs. Huo replied with a chuckle.

"Rember the young lady I ntioned to you not long ago—"

"Mom."

Antonio spoke slowly, cutting her off.

His tone was gentle, yet carried a hint of unmistakable displeasure.

"I’ve made it clear—my marriage is my own decision."

Just one step away. His own decision? Grandma. ga narrowed her eyes slightly, casting a cool glance at Antonio with a trace of displeasure.

She could tolerate him having his fun, but she would never allow that woman to beco her grandson’s wife.

Still, she had no intention of saying this to Antonio.

Antonio’s mother frowned as well.

"Antonio, you—"

"Enough," Grandpa. Antonio spoke slowly, cutting her off.

"I didn’t call you here today to discuss this.

Stephen should be arriving soon."

That "he," of course, referred to Stephen.

At those words, Antonio’s parents stiffened, their expressions turning cold.

Antonio lowered his gaze, lost in thought.

Ti ticked by, and before they knew it, another half hour had passed.

Mrs. Antonio glanced at her watch and couldn’t help frowning as she spoke.

"Honestly, this Stephen is too much. Look how late it is, and he still hasn’t shown up.

Making all of us wait like this—does he really think he’s that important?"

Before she could finish, a man’s amused voice sounded from the doorway.

"You misunderstand, sister-in-law."

Stephen was wheeled in on his chair, his pale, almost translucent face wearing a faint smile.

But upon closer inspection, one could see the icy detachnt in his eyes, hidden behind fraless silver-rimd glasses.

Antonio lifted his gaze to study Stephen, his expression unreadable.

Mrs. ga flushed with embarrassnt and shot a reproachful look at the servant who had followed Stephen.

Why hadn’t they announced his arrival?!

The servant looked aggrieved.

It wasn’t that he hadn’t tried to warn them—it was just that the man in the wheelchair carried such an intimidating presence that his words left no room for disobedience.

The others had felt the sa.

"It is rather late," Stephen remarked casually, as if oblivious to their reactions.

Stephen turned to the butler standing nearby with a smile.

"Let’s serve the al."

His deanor was so natural, as if he were the true boss of this household.

The butler t those dark eyes and instinctively nodded.

"Yes," The mont he responded, realization dawned on him.

A flustered expression crossed his face as he turned to grandma ga.

"Madam—"

"It’s fine."

Grandma ga regarded Stephen with a composed gaze before speaking calmly.

"Go and make the arrangents."

The corners of Stephen’s lips curved slightly deeper as he maneuvered his electric wheelchair forward.

Stephen didn’t take the seat reserved for him—below Antonio—but instead settled directly across from grandma ga in the place of honor.

His unshakable poise commanded attention.