Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 192: Feeling unwell

"If you hadn’t tried to run away twice in three days," Vicente slid one hand into his pocket, a lazy smirk playing at the corner of his lips.

"I wouldn’t have had to work this hard."

He pulled out a cigarette and clamped it between his teeth, his striking features exuding a roguish yet icy aura.

Just as he flicked open his lighter, a delicate hand suddenly reached over and snatched the cigarette from his mouth.

Vicente arched an eyebrow, his gaze locking onto Melissa.

Under that piercing stare, Melissa’s bravado instantly deflated.

Still, she tilted her chin up stubbornly and muttered, "This is a shopping mall.

No smoking allowed."

For some reason, the man’s eyes reminded her of a wolf—sharp, predatory, impossible to meet directly.

Rules?

The world was full of rules. If he’d followed every single one, he wouldn’t have survived this long.

But as he took in the woman’s bright, delicate face, Vicente pocketed the lighter.

"Got it."

Seeing the man heed her advice, Melissa let out a relieved sigh.

"Here, take this back," she said, straining on tiptoe as she attempted to place the cigarette behind Vicente’s ear—just like how bodyguards sometimes did.

Vicente’s finely arched brows furrowed slightly, his instincts screaming at him to dodge.

In his line of work, the neck and head were vital weak points, strictly off-limits to anyone’s touch.

Yet those clear, guileless eyes of Melissa held him in place. Instead of pulling away, he even bent down slightly to accommodate her.

Her cool fingertips brushed against his skin for just a fleeting moment, but it sent an odd ripple through Vicente’s chest—a sensation he couldn’t quite grasp before it vanished entirely.

Pleased with his compliance, Melissa nodded in satisfaction.

"Alright, let’s go," she announced, striding ahead toward her usual luxury brand boutiques.

Vicente’s sharp, penetrating gaze flickered almost imperceptibly toward a certain direction before he followed at a leisurely pace.

Meanwhile, not far away...

Several pairs of eyes gleamed from the shadows, locked onto their target.

"That man—is he the bodyguard Taylor hired at great expense for Melissa?"

"Exactly.

Word is he’s got serious skills.

Stay sharp."

"Skills?

With the numbers we’ve got, skills won’t save him."

"Enough talk.

They’re getting away.

Move in closer."

Meanwhile, inside a discreet private lounge near the mall...

Sandra stepped in, her face hidden behind sunglasses and a mask.

Two men—one burly, the other gaunt—sat waiting.

At first glance, they looked ordinary, but the cold menace in their eyes betrayed their true nature.

Their predatory stares made Sandra’s skin crawl.

She suppressed a frown, reminding herself these were ruthless mercenaries who’d kill for the right price.

Better not provoke them.

"Employer," the lanky, long-haired man rasped, his voice like sandpaper.

"The first half of the payment—as agreed?"

Without a word, Sandra pulled a card from her bag and tossed it onto the table.

"Here’s ten million, no password required."

The gaunt man glanced sideways.

"Samuel—"

The towering, heavyset young man known as Samuel immediately understood.

He picked up the card and strode out without another word.

The frail middle-aged man then turned his gaze to Sandra, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"Payment first, service after—that’s the rule in our line of work.

Hope you understand."

Sandra scoffed inwardly but kept her face expressionless as she gave a curt nod.

She had sought them out precisely because she knew how these people operated—money talked, not loyalty.

From her bag, she pulled out several photographs along with a stack of documents and handed them over.

The door creaked open again as the man called "Brother" stepped back inside, his gaze settling on the gaunt figure in the room.

"Wolf Boss, everything’s clear."

Sandra’s eyes flicked toward the man addressed as Wolf Boss.

Behind her mask, her crimson lips parted slightly.

"Now, may I state my terms?"

"Of course."

Wolf Boss curled his lips into a smirk, though the expression did nothing to dispel the unsettling aura of menace around him.

Sandra slid a pre-prepared dossier across the table toward him.

Behind her sunglasses, her eyes gleamed with venomous cruelty, cold as a blade.

"Here’s the target’s information and photos, along with two routes she’ll definitely take tomorrow."

Her voice dropped to a whisper, each word laced with malice.

"No matter what it takes—make sure she dies... in pieces."

The last four words were spat through clenched teeth.

Wolf Boss arched an eyebrow, studying Sandra with renewed interest.

Though her identity remained a mystery, her voice and slender frame betrayed her youth.

A young woman, indeed—and one with a heart of ice.

He pulled out the photos from the file and studied them carefully.

The woman wore a white dress, her chestnut curls cascading down to her slender waist, her legs long and pale.

Her face was strikingly beautiful—rare even by entertainment industry standards.

No wonder.

When Wolf turned his gaze back to Sandra, understanding flickered across his face.

Jealousy was a terrifying thing, especially a woman’s jealousy.

"No problem," he said, snapping the folder shut and tossing it to the man beside him.

"Final payment will be settled in person once the job’s done.

No other arrangements."

Then he paused, his voice hardening.

"But let’s be clear—if the client dares to skip out on the bill, we won’t show any mercy."

"Relax," Sandra replied, rising from her seat, a cold edge in her tone.

The fact that he hadn’t questioned the target’s identity eased her mind.

"That amount is nothing to me. In fact, if you handle this cleanly, I might even throw in a bonus."

Wolf leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smirk playing on his lips.

"The client is being so straightforward, we certainly won’t let you down."

"Better not."

With those words, Sandra turned and walked away, heading back into the mall.

No sooner had she removed her sunglasses and mask and changed back into her original clothes in the restroom than she spotted a figure she knew all too well.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles from the capital, inside the presidential suite of a luxury hotel...

"Feeling unwell?"

Sinclair sat on the sofa, his dark eyes shadowed with concern.

"Since when?"

His sharp, penetrating gaze narrowed into a cold, assessing slant.

"It started suddenly three or four nights ago.

Before that, there were no signs at all," Uncle Carlos admitted, knowing there was no hiding the truth from boss Sinclair.

"Madam is still performing acupuncture and examining grandpa.

The specifics aren’t clear yet."

"Once the treatment is over, transfer the call directly to Camilla."

Sinclair spoke slowly, his voice measured.

"Also, station guards around the old estate and blocks all signals,"

His narrow, deep-set eyes narrowed further, the dark pupils churning with terrifying menace.

"Until we have the results, no one makes contact with the outside world."

"Yes,Boss Luther!"

Uncle Carlos responded gravely.

Sinclair ended the call and strode to the window, coming to a standstill.

The chiseled perfection of his face was half-lit, half-shrouded in shadow, making his expression unreadable.

The aura of bloodlust radiating from him grew even more chilling.