Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 195: Melissa is heartbroken

Dating?

Tiffany froze, her beautiful eyes widening in shock.

Where on earth had he gotten that idea?

Snapping back to reality, she hurriedly spoke up to clarify.

"Of course not—"

But before she could finish, a deep, amused voice cut her off.

"Fanny, the button on your waist isn’t fastened."

As he spoke, Calvin strode toward her with his long legs.

Button on her waist?

She had been standing in front of three men this whole time! Startled, Tiffany immediately looked down.

She didn’t even register the affectionate nickname he’d used.

Whatever she had been about to say was completely forgotten.

Sure enough, there was a hidden clasp on her side that she hadn’t noticed.

Although nothing was exposed at the moment, the dress threatened to slip with any sudden movement.

A faint blush colored Tiffany’s cheeks as she immediately reached to fasten it.

But Calvin was quicker.

"Let me help," he said.

His slender, well-defined fingers deftly worked the hidden clasps behind her waist, moving with deliberate care.

Though there was no actual contact, from Melissa’s perspective, those hands might as well have been pressed intimately against Tiffany’s slender figure.

The event coordinator exchanged a knowing glance, casting a sympathetic look at Melissa before discreetly fading into the background.

Melissa’s long, thick lashes fluttered slightly.

Her crimson lips pressed into a tight line, her complexion paling.

Vicente’s gaze flickered briefly over Calvin and Tiffany before settling on Melissa.

"It’s about time we headed back," he remarked coolly.

"Y-yes... we should go," Melissa seized the opportunity to agree.

"Calvin, Miss Tiffany, I’ll take my leave now," she managed before turning away.

As she spoke, she had already turned and walked away, her hurried steps carrying an air of almost fleeing in panic.

Tiffany looked up, her face etched with confusion as she watched Melissa’s retreating figure.

"Miss Taylor, she’s..."

Calvin’s handsome features remained composed, betraying no emotion.

Vicente gave Calvin a slight nod before turning to follow Melissa out.

"I can’t help but feel Miss Taylor is upset.

But why all of a sudden?"

Tiffany recalled the way Melissa had looked at Calvin earlier, then thought back to her own unanswered question.

A sudden realization struck her, and she turned to Calvin.

"Does Miss Taylor... like you?"

Calvin arched an eyebrow, a faint smirk playing on his lips.

"And where did you get that idea?"

"How could you not know?

But don’t worry—I’ve got plenty of experience in this area.

Trust me, I’m never wrong."

Channeling the mindset of a romance novelist, Tiffany furrowed her brows and continued analyzing earnestly.

"Because of the cufflink incident, I didn’t get a chance to explain things to Miss Taylor.

She must have misunderstood that we’re dating—that’s why she’s so upset."

Her gaze returned to Calvin, searching for confirmation.

"Hurry up and call Miss Taylor to explain things clearly!"

If Camilla were here, she would have immediately corrected Tiffany.

It was the protagonists in her novels who were experienced in matters of love—not her.

But Calvin didn’t know that. When he heard Tiffany describe herself as "experienced," the faint smile on his lips faded without him even realizing it.

"There’s nothing to explain. Melissa doesn’t like me—at least, not in *that* way," Calvin turned to the manager nearby, his expression calm as he instructed,

"Pack up all the jewelry, bags, and shoes that go with this gown for Miss Tiffany."

"There’s no need—"

Before Tiffany could finish her refusal, the manager had already left to prepare the items.

"I’ll wait for you outside."

With that, Calvin walked away.

Tiffany’s lips twitched in exasperation.

*Typical domineering CEO behavior*, she thought.

*Can’t take no for an answer.*

Tap.

Tap...

Melissa had completely lost interest in shopping, her head bowed as she stormed down the street.

"Are you really determined to learn the hard way?"

Vicente’s deep voice drifted calmly from behind her.

"None of your business!"

Thinking he was referring to Calvin, Melissa snapped back before quickening her pace even further.

But not long after— *Thud—* A dull impact sounded as her lowered head collided with what felt like a solid wall of muscle.

Staggering backward, she barely managed to steady herself.

"Ouch!"

Clutching the sore spot, she glared up at the figure before her, her eyes shimmering with fury.

"Vicente, what the hell do you think you’re—?"

Her angry words died in her throat. Behind Vicente stood a solid, unyielding wall.

In other words, if he hadn’t been standing there, she would have crashed right into it.

Melissa glanced at the direction again, a flicker of embarrassment flashing in her eyes.

So when Vicente had mentioned "hitting a wall," he meant it literally—this very real, very hard wall.

"I..." Vicente looked down at her, his voice softening in a rare moment of gentleness.

"Let’s go home."

As he spoke, his gaze flickered briefly toward a shadowed corner in the distance, his expression darkening imperceptibly.

Those three simple words made Melissa’s nose sting, her eyes welling up with unshed tears.

"Vicente," she whispered, voice trembling, "comfort me, please."

He studied the small figure before him, every inch of her radiating misery.

His eyes narrowed slightly as he spoke, deliberate and measured.

"Feelings should be mutual.

But he doesn’t like you—not even a little."

*So you shouldn’t like him either.*

He thought his words were perfectly comforting.

Yet the moment they left his lips, Melissa—who had been barely holding back her tears—completely broke down, sobbing openly.

"You—"

Her eyes burned into Vicente as pearly tears streamed down her porcelain cheeks.

"I asked you to comfort me, and this is how you treat me?!"

Melissa was no stranger to whining, throwing tantrums, or fake-crying—all bark and no bite.

But genuine tears?

This was the first time Vicente had ever seen them, and an unfamiliar pang of panic twisted in his chest.

"I—I didn’t mean it like that."

"I hate you!"

Clearly done listening, Melissa wiped her tears and shot him a glare sharp enough to cut glass.

"Don’t you dare follow me!

If you take one step, I swear I’ll make you regret it!"

With that final threat, she spun on her heel and stormed off.

Vicente started after her—then froze.

A shadow flickered at the edge of his vision.

His gaze sharpened, and just like that, his mind changed.

When he moved again, it was in the opposite direction.

"Boss, what now?"

"Our target is Melissa. Ignore the man. Signal the team—move in."

Unaware of the looming danger, Melissa kept running.

The Luther Family Ancestral Residence.

"Madam," Uncle Carlos’s face paled as he noticed the faint, ominous discoloration spreading across Grandpa Luther’s back.

"What is this?!"

Ramsey’s expression was equally tense, his jaw clenched.

"Grandfather has indeed been poisoned—a rather unique toxin," Camilla replied, tossing the extracted silver needle into a basin of disinfectant nearby.

Her striking eyes narrowed, radiating a chilling intensity.

"Fortunately, while it’s difficult to detect, it isn’t hard to counteract.

Did you prepare everything I asked for?"

"The medicinal solution, timing, and water measurements were all prepared exactly as you instructed," Uncle Carlos confirmed with a firm nod.

"It’s all set up in the adjoining room."

"Bring it in," Camilla said calmly, her voice steady.

"Starting today, Grandfather will need an hour-long medicinal bath daily.

It’s a crucial part of the treatment."

Her gaze shifted to Ramsey, dark and resolute.

"Contact Sinclair.

It’s time we took action."