Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire Chapter 397: Calvin saved her

Before the words had even fully left their mouths, the n were already striding toward her.

Tiffany bit her lower lip, her eyes filled with despair.

Clearly, praying at the last minute when you’ve never bothered before was utterly useless.

Just as the three n reached out to tear apart the rose bushes where Tiffany was hiding, a piercing alarm suddenly blared from nearby.

"Ergency alert?

Sothing happened up front!"

"Could that woman have escaped that way?"

"If it were her, they wouldn’t have triggered the alarm. Hurry, let’s check it out!"

The three n imdiately abandoned their search for Tiffany and sprinted toward the front of the villa.

Only when she was certain their footsteps had truly faded did Tiffany allow her stone-tense body to relax slightly.

That was when she realized her clothes were completely drenched in cold sweat.

The rose thicket was no longer safe—she had to find another hiding place.

Pushing herself up with trembling hands, she erged from the dense tangle of roses, countless thorns embedding themselves in her palms.

She barely registered the pain.

Gritting her teeth against the agony coursing through her body, she skirted around the floral wall and headed toward the garage.

She had only learned about the lack of surveillance caras there by chance—one of the servants who had drugged her had carelessly let it slip.

Even if she couldn’t steal a car to smash her way out, she could at least hide in a trunk until the pain subsided enough to think of another plan.

But the mont she rounded the corner of the flower wall, she collided straight into soone.

Her head collided with the man’s firm chest, sending an imdiate wave of dizziness through her as she stumbled backward.

So they’d found her after all. It seed fate had abandoned her.

Tiffany shut her eyes in despair.

"I’m sorry, Camilla," she whispered inwardly.

But just then, the man she’d bumped into suddenly reached out with long, powerful arms, catching her by the waist and steadying her before she could fall.

"Fanny, it’s ."

The man’s voice was thick with suppressed emotion.

That voice—it sounded like Calvin’s!

Tiffany’s thick lashes fluttered in disbelief as she forced her eyes open, eting Calvin’s narrowed, peach-blossom gaze.

Was she so desperate that she was hallucinating now?

Calvin read the doubt in her stunned expression.

"Fanny, it’s really ," he murmured.

Calvin grabbed her hand, intending to press it against his face to prove he wasn’t an illusion—but then he saw the tiny floral thorns embedded in her palm.

His long, narrow eyes instantly darkened with a dangerous glint.

Gently, Calvin lowered her hand, pressed a tender kiss to her forehead, and pulled her tightly into his embrace.

"Don’t be afraid.

I’m here."

The warmth of his body and the deep murmur of his voice built an invisible fortress around Tiffany.

In that instant, all her terror and despair lted away.

"W-wah... Calvin, why did you take so long?"

The mont she spoke, her nose stung with unshed tears, and all her emotions twisted into inexplicable grievance.

Her vision blurred instantly.

"I was so scared when I jumped from upstairs...

When those people almost found , I thought—I thought I’d never escape..."

Clutching the lapels of Calvin’s light gray suit, she sobbed harder and harder, pouring out all the fear she had bottled up.

"I know.

I know everything."

Calvin held her tightly, his voice a low, soothing murmur.

But his gaze, fixed on so distant point, was chillingly cold.

"Those who hurt you... won’t get away with it."

Hearing this, Tiffany only cried harder, her breath hitching uncontrollably.

Just then—

"Mr. Calvin—"

Vicente strode in, long legs eating up the distance, but the mont he took in the scene, he wisely halted mid-step and turned away.

The sound of another voice snapped Tiffany back to her senses.

Her crying faltered, as if soone had hit pause, until it dwindled into quiet, stifled hiccups.

She knew exactly how ugly she looked when crying.

Having already embarrassed herself in front of Calvin, she couldn’t afford to lose face in front of others.

She discreetly wiped the tears from her cheeks with her fingers, stifling her sobs as she tried to pull away from his embrace.

But a strong, slender hand pressed her head back against his chest.

Tiffany froze, no longer resisting.

"Mr. Vincent, I’ll leave this to you," Calvin’s deep, composed voice sounded above her.

"As for the rest, we’ll discuss it later."

Vicente gave a faint nod.

"Understood."

Calvin removed his suit jacket and draped it over Tiffany, shielding her from prying eyes—and, more importantly, sparing her from witnessing the grueso scene outside.

"Much obliged."

With a slight tilt of his head toward Vicente, he cradled her gently and strode out.

Pressed against the steady rhythm of the man’s heartbeat, Tiffany suddenly felt that what had just happened wasn’t so terrifying after all.

Calvin gently placed Tiffany in the passenger seat, fastened her seatbelt, and then settled into the driver’s seat.

Calvin recalled Camilla’s earlier words—Tiffany’s pain sensitivity was far more acute than most people’s.

His eyes darkened at the thought.

"I’m taking you to the hospital right now to treat your wounds."

The car roared to life and sped away.

"By the way, how did you find ?" Tiffany’s voice was hoarse and shaky, still tinged with the remnants of tears. "And Camilla? Is she okay?

That despicable Antonio didn’t force her into anything, did she?"

Even battered and bruised, she still had the energy to worry about others.

Calvin felt a mix of frustration and heartache.

"You’re throwing so many questions at .

Which one should I answer first?"

Tiffany rubbed her dry, stinging eyes and didn’t hesitate, her voice still rough.

"Where’s Camilla?"

Calvin’s lips twisted slightly, a pang of bitterness rising in his chest.

"Right now, she’s probably with that bastard Antonio."

"What?!"

Tiffany’s face paled instantly, her slightly reddened eyes brimming with panic.

Seeing Calvin approach, she had assud Antonio had been dealt with.

"How could you leave her alone with that wolf in sheep’s clothing, Antonio?

Where’s Mr. Sinclair Luther?

Hurry, we need to save her—now!"

"Relax," Calvin replied, his voice calm and steady.

"Sinclair is already there.

She doesn’t need my help."

Calvin took a step closer, his gaze softening.

"I ca here for you."