Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 222: Stake Game

"Sir,"

The assistant staggered in, his face white.

"We’re surrounded by an unknown force outside the villa," he stammered, panic flashing in his eyes.

"The moment any of our people or vehicles step beyond the gate, they’re immediately fired upon."

What?!

Could it really be Sinclair?!

Yoland’s body stiffened, his face draining of color.

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Sinclair was dead—already dead.

At most, these were just remnants of his forces lingering in Mileage.

Nothing to fear.

Clenching his jaw, Yoland steeled himself with silent reassurances.

"Call in all reinforcements—now," he growled, his voice icy and sharp.

"Whoever’s out there, wipe them out.

Leave no one alive."

"I’ll make them understand—no one messes with me in Mileage territory and gets away with it."

"Understood," the assistant nodded hastily, immediately pulling out his phone.

But the next moment, he realized there wasn’t a single bar of signal.

Without hesitation, he turned to the computer on the desk—only to find the network completely severed.

"Sir... sir," he froze, his face pale as he stared at Yoland in horror.

"The signals inside the villa... they’ve been jammed."

Surrounded.

Cut off.

The color drained entirely from Yoland’s face.

Whoever was outside had come with one intention—total annihilation.

"Sir," the assistant’s voice trembled with tension.

"What do we do now?"

"How many men do we still have in the villa?"

Yoland’s voice was low, the fear in his eyes now impossible to conceal.

"Sir, there are still—"

*BANG!*

Before his assistant could finish, the muffled sound of gunfire and agonized screams erupted from outside.

The assistant’s pupils contracted sharply.

In a panic, he fumbled for the gun hidden in his coat and aimed it shakily toward the door.

"B-Boss!

They’re inside!!"

Yoland’s face darkened.

Without hesitation, he spun around, yanked open a drawer, and pulled out a pistol, swiftly loading it with practiced hands.

"To the basement!"

The basement was equipped with a state-of-the-art security system and a reinforced bulletproof room—precautions he had installed precisely for emergencies like this.

Once inside, no one outside could touch him.

"Y-yes, sir!"

The assistant nodded frantically and hurried after Yolanda toward the basement.

But before they could reach the stairs—

*BOOM!*

A deafening explosion tore through the air behind them.

With a deafening explosion, the villa’s front door was blown apart in an instant.

The entire house shook violently, sending lamps and porcelain shattering to the ground.

Shit!

Yoland and his assistant paled, instinctively shielding their heads from the flying debris as they sprinted toward the basement.

But just then—

*Rat-tat-tat-tat-tat!*

A hail of bullets whizzed past their heads, embedding themselves into the framed painting on the wall.

Their pupils contracted in terror, freezing them in their tracks.

Then, a chillingly familiar voice echoed from behind them.

Inside the Maybach’s plush interior.

"So, what’s this big secret you wanted to tell me?"

Camilla gazed at Calvin, a faint smile playing on her lips.

"All this mystery?"

Her eyes flickered toward Tiffany, who was on the phone with her editor discussing her new book, her tone laced with unspoken meaning.

"Are you expecting me, as family, to..."

Before she could finish her sentence, Calvin cut her off.

"I’m sorry."

Camilla froze, her gaze locking onto Calvin’s face.

"Why the sudden apology?"

"About what Micheal did to Sinclair,"

Calvin met her eyes, his strikingly handsome features etched with icy solemnity.

"I know everything now."

He had originally planned to tell her during the banquet.

But with all the drama unfolding, he hadn’t found the right moment until now.

With Tiffany present though, even if others saw them talking, there wouldn’t be any gossip—and Sinclair certainly wouldn’t jump to jealous conclusions.

In his words, the smile faded completely from Camilla’s face as she slowly lowered her lashes.

"Taylor told you?"

Deep down, she still held some resentment toward Calvin.

If not for his soft-heartedness, Micheal would never have gotten the chance to harm Sinclair.

But what’s done is done.

Pointing fingers won’t change anything.

"No," Calvin shook his head, a self-deprecating smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"I sensed something was off myself."

His gaze settled on Camilla, the bitterness in his smile deepening.

"I know you blame me, and I blame myself too.

Once we deal with the Life bound Poison, I’ll personally go to Sinclair and beg for his forgiveness."

Life bound Poison?

Camilla’s beautiful eyes narrowed slightly.

Taylor knew Sinclair had been cursed, but he wasn’t aware it was the Life bound Poison.

So it couldn’t have been him who told Calvin.

"How did you suddenly figure it out?"

Had she overlooked something?

"That’s not important," Calvin’s expression turned grave as he spoke slowly.

"What matters is that I’ve caught the person who helped Michael plant the poison in the first place."

Someone who planted the Twin Fate poison?!

Camilla’s pupils contracted sharply, a glint of light flashing in her eyes as she looked at Calvin.

"Where is he?

Take me to him."

To untie the bell, one must seek the one who tied it. If this person could cast such a venomous poison, there was a good chance

they could undo it—or at least know how.

Calvin nodded and opened the partition.

"Ramsey, change of plans," he said, rapping his knuckles against the driver’s seat.

"Head to my estate."

Ramsey glanced at Camilla through the rearview mirror, awaiting her confirmation.

She gave a slight nod.

"Understood, Mr. Calvin."

Only then did Ramsey respond, turning the steering wheel to redirect the car toward Calvin’s residence.

"You little—"

Calvin took in Ramsey’s movements with a knowing glance, his lips curling into a helpless smile.

"Honestly, I have no idea how Sinclair trained them," he murmured under his breath.

The car was silent, save for Tiffany, who was still deep in discussion with her editor about the finer details of her new book.

No one noticed the several vehicles trailing them at a distance.

"Wolf," Samuel eyed the black business sedan ahead, pressing the phone to his ear as his voice dropped low.

"The target has changed the road."

The man on the other end of the line rasped, his voice rough.

"Did they spot you?"

"Our guys were careful.

No way," Samuel insisted, his brow furrowing.

"There’s a man and a woman in the car now.

The sudden detour must be because of them."

His murky eyes narrowed, glinting with cold-blooded intent.

"Wolf, do we stick to the original plan and take them all out, or—?"

"That woman’s no ordinary mark.

Anyone with her is bound to be in trouble.

The more we cross, the riskier this gets. Don’t act recklessly," the man’s voice oozed caution, dark and calculating.

"Keep tailing them.

She’ll slip up eventually. We’ll strike when she’s alone—no need to rush."

He emphasized each word, deadly serious.

"Stay sharp.

This is a high-stakes game."