Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 242: Where is Sandra?

Grandpa Porter glared at Madam Porter with fury, his knuckles turning white as he gripped his cane.

"You two—drag her out of here now!"

"Y-yes, right away!"

The two servants, already terrified, didn’t dare hesitate.

They immediately seized Mrs. Porter, by both arms and began hauling her toward the door.

"Let me go!

You still haven’t told me where Sandra is—I won’t leave!!"

Mrs. Porter struggled weakly, but her injuries left her powerless.

She could only let the Porter family servants drag her away.

Her lips pressed into a bloodless line, she twisted her head with effort, her gaze sweeping over the figures in the parlor.

Despair in her eyes hardened into something venomous.

A dark, icy thought took root in her mind.

The commotion in the Porter household soon reached Camilla’s ears through the Luther Family’s informants.

"This Mrs. Porter... is far more interesting than I expected."

A faint, inscrutable smile curved her lips as she spoke slowly.

"Have our people keep a close eye on her.

We might just get an unexpected surprise."

The Porter family drama was getting more intriguing by the minute.

"Yes, sir!"

Luke nodded in acknowledgment.

"Grandpa Porter is as cunning as they come.

Aren’t you worried about Mr. Porter’s end of things?"

"The one who should be worried is Mr. Porter, not me."

A faint smirk played on Camilla’s lips, though her clear, beautiful eyes remained devoid of any warmth.

"If this comes to light, he’ll not only lose everything he’s worked for but also what he already has."

Her voice was soft, yet carried an undeniable air of authority.

"So rest assured, no matter what, Mr. Porter will grit his teeth and deny everything to the bitter end."

This was the outcome she had anticipated from the very beginning.

And even if—just hypothetically—things took a turn for the worst...

To Mr. Porter and the entire Porter family, Grandpa Porter was their backbone, their lifeline, their very sky.

But to her?

He meant absolutely nothing.

So what if they found out she was the one who’d orchestrated Mr. Porter’s plot to kill Sandra?

What could they possibly do about it?

"How much longer until we get there?"

The driver glanced at the navigation and answered in a low, serious tone.

"About two hours."

Two hours. For the first time, she felt time stretch unbearably long.

Camilla gazed out the window, her beautiful eyes narrowing slightly with a distant, misty look.

"Stay alert and get there as fast as you can."

She needed to see Sinclair.

The sooner, the better.

In the Porter family’s living room, the air had settled back into silence after Mrs. Porter was taken away.

With Bryan supporting him, grandpa Porter slowly lowered himself onto the central sofa—the seat of authority—and cast a stern glance at the servants standing on either side, their heads bowed.

"All of you, get out."

"Yes, sir!"

The vast room was suddenly left with only grandpa Porter, Mr. Porter, and Bryan.

Bryan poured a cup of steaming tea and handed it to the old man.

But Grandpa Porter didn’t take it.

His inscrutable eyes remained fixed on Mr. Porter, sharp and penetrating, as if they could pierce straight through to the truth buried in his heart.

"Dad—" Mr. Porter suppressed the unease churning inside him, forcing his voice to sound steady.

"Mrs. Porter has lost her mind—nothing but nonsense spilling from her mouth.

Pay her no mind."

He glanced at his wristwatch, his face a mask of concern.

"It’s getting late.

Let me help you back to your room to rest."

Grandpa Porter ignored his suggestion and cut straight to the point.

"Tell me—where is Sandra?"

The abrupt question sent a jolt of panic through Mr. Porter. He swallowed hard, biting the tip of his tongue to feign composure.

"Dad, why would you ask me that?

I truly have no idea where that wretched girl is!"

"Nothing in the Porter family escapes my notice."

"Mr. Porter."

Grandpa Porter’s piercing gaze locked onto his son, his expression as stern and unyielding as carved stone.

His voice, though measured and calm, carried an oppressive weight that could make a man’s blood run cold.

"While I’m still willing to hear you out, you’d better start telling the truth."

"I..." Mr. Porter’s hands clenched involuntarily at his sides.

His downcast eyes flickered with barely concealed panic.

If his father discovered he’d murdered Sandra—his own flesh and blood—just to secure the Luther Family’s backing, the old man would enforce the Porter family’s ancestral laws without mercy.

At the very least, he’d be stripped of all assets and cast out from the main lineage.

Everything he’d schemed for would crumble to dust.

No.

He couldn’t admit it.

Not ever.

"Father, I swear I don’t know where that wretched girl is."

His reaction was precisely what Camilla had anticipated.

So.

He intended to take this secret to his grave.

Grandpa Porter’s pupils contracted sharply as he slammed his palm down on the side table with such force that tea splashed from the cup.

He was just about to speak, ready to intimidate Mr. Porter—

"You—"

At that moment, a crisp ringtone suddenly pierced the air.

"Ring-ring."

"Ring-ring."

It was Bryan’s phone.

Under grandpa Porter’s pointed gaze, Bryan stepped aside to take the call in the corner.

"Mhm, I understand."

Grandpa Porter’s eyes darkened, his expression unreadable.

The call ended.

Immediately, Bryan leaned in close, whispering something into the old man’s ear. Watching this, Mr. Porter’s eyes flickered with barely concealed resentment.

*He* was the Porter family’s heir. What secrets could an outsider like Bryan be privy to—ones that *he* wasn’t allowed to know?!

Camilla left the capital and headed for Mileage?!

Grandpa Porter’s eyes flickered, a chilling glint lurking in their depths.

So she knew about Sinclair’s accident—so much so that she couldn’t even bother with the poisoned old fool back at the Luther residence.

But this worked in his favor. It would make things easier to deal with all at once.

"You have two days," Grandpa Porter said in a low, commanding voice, his gaze fixed on Mr. Porter amidst the heavy silence.

"If you fail to bring Sandra back within two days, you’ll bear the consequences."

Two days?

Not even two years—or two lifetimes—would be enough to bring her back.

Mr. Porter knew he had no right to refuse.

He could only nod in reluctant agreement. "Leave us," Grandpa Porter said, taking a slow sip of his tea.

"I still have matters to discuss with Bryan."

"Yes," Mr. Porter replied, shooting Bryan a resentful glance before walking out with a grim expression.

His mind began calculating countermeasures.

"I thought it would take longer to completely deal with the Luther Family, but it seems fate has sped things up," Grandpa Porter murmured, his inscrutable eyes glinting with a cold, sinister amusement.

"Contact Yoland and have him prepare his response," he said, his gaze sharpening.

Then, after a deliberate pause, he added, "Also, send more men to Mileage.

Make sure Camilla stays there forever—keeping Sinclair company in death.

Consider it a final act of mercy for the devoted couple."

"Yes, sir," Bryan nodded.

"I’ll arrange it immediately."

"Wait,"

Grandpa Porter called out, halting Bryan before he could leave.

His voice was slow, deliberate, each word weighted with intent.

"Notify Samson—it’s time for action at the Luther ancestral estate."

His expression darkened, the shadows in his eyes deepening.

"No later than tomorrow night."

This time, he would ensure every last member of the Luther Family’s main bloodline vanished from the face of the earth.

Tomorrow night?

A glimmer of triumph flashed in Bryan’s eyes.

"Yes!"

At that moment, Grandpa Porter had no idea.

Everything unfolding before him would become the primary cause of the Porter family’s complete downfall.