Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 268: Do you know how to make a girl happy?

On the screen, the girl was strikingly beautiful.

Unlike the typical darker complexion of the Mileage people, her skin was fair and delicate.

Her eyes and brows bore an uncanny

resemblance to Carie Ann’s.

Even without the photograph, it was clear the two shared a blood relation.

Camilla’s beautiful eyes narrowed slightly, a quiet relief settling in her chest.

*At least this wasn’t all for nothing.*

Meanwhile, the woman exhaled softly as she watched her younger sister, now dressed beautifully, looking even more adorable than before.

When her gaze shifted back to Camilla, surprise and admiration flickered in her eyes.

This woman—someone capable of mobilizing such influence, addressed as "Madam"—was as stunning as she was.

* The moment Carie Ann saw the woman, her delicate, snow-like face lit up with disbelief.

The girl finally tore her eyes away from Camilla and spoke gently, "Carie Ann, it’s your sister."

*So they were sisters.*

Camilla’s eyes flickered with understanding, but she remained silent, not interrupting their conversation.

Only then did Carrie Ann confirm that the person in the video was truly her sister—not just a figment of her imagination.

Overwhelmed with emotion, she leaned forward, pressing her small hands against the screen.

Though she couldn’t speak, her large, grape-like eyes welled up with tears.

"Don’t cry, Carrie Ann," the young woman cooed softly, her voice tender as she pulled out an object resembling a short bamboo flute, no longer than a finger.

"Sister will come for you soon."

"But before that," she continued, her tone shifting slightly, "I have some questions for you."

She needed to know whether the people on the other side had any connection to those who had taken Carrie Ann—and whether they, too, were after the Golden Silkworm poison hidden within the little girl’s body.

Camilla’s beautiful eyes narrowed as she instantly recalled the golden parasitic insect inside Carrie Ann.

But how exactly did one "ask" a poisonous worm?

Carrie Ann seemed to understand.

Nodding, she wiped her tears away with the back of her hand.

Under Camilla’s curious gaze, the woman raised the flute-like object to her lips.

A series of short, erratic notes filled the air—sharp, disjointed, and utterly foreign.

In no time, the golden silkworm that Camilla had seen earlier fluttered its wings once more, emerging from Carrie Ann’s ear.

The girl’s eyes gleamed as she quickened the tempo of her flute melody.

The golden poison insect circled Carrie Ann a few times before unexpectedly alighting on Camilla’s shoulder.

"Madam, be careful!"

Luke was startled and immediately called out in alarm.

The Black Mileage people acted purely on whim, with no rhyme or reason to their ways. Camilla’s long, thick lashes fluttered slightly as she lowered her gaze to look.

Her expression held less fear and more curiosity.

Carrie Ann frantically shook her head at Luke, then clasped Camilla’s hands in reassurance, silently urging her not to be afraid.

Having gotten the answer she sought, the girl on the other end of the video raised her flute to her lips again.

The golden poison insect promptly took flight from Camilla’s shoulder and burrowed back into Carrie Ann’s body.

"Madam," This time, when the girl spoke to Camilla, the wariness and guardedness in her eyes had clearly faded.

"I apologize.

Carrie Ann is still too young to tell right from wrong."

Her face was etched with remorse.

"I can only verify through this method what kind of person Carie Ann is currently with."

Camilla’s crimson lips curved slightly.

"So, have you confirmed it now?"

"Carrie Ann says you’re trustworthy," the girl replied with a solemn nod.

"I’ll follow your people to the capital as soon as possible."

Camilla’s beautiful eyes narrowed thoughtfully.

"Good."

From the way the girl had just commanded the Golden Silkworm poison, it was clear her expertise in poison sorcery was extraordinary.

There was now a glimmer of hope for the Twin-Life poison inside Sinclair.

The girl said nothing more to Camilla, murmuring a few soothing words to Carie Ann before ending the video call.

Camilla, meanwhile, cradled Carie Ann gently, whispering comforting words.

Luther Corporation.

"President Luther"

Ramsey quickly caught up with Sinclair as he stepped out of the conference room.

"The old residence called to ask if you’ll be returning for dinner, or...?"

The old residence?

Sinclair paused mid-step and turned his sharp, dark eyes toward Ramsey.

"Be specific."

Ramsey understood perfectly well—his boss was asking whether it was Madam who had called.

Swallowing hard, he replied, "...It was my dad."

Sinclair averted his gaze, his long, narrow eyes narrowing further with displeasure.

It seemed Camilla was still upset with him.

"Maybe Madam asked my father to call on her behalf," Ramsey straightened his posture and quickly added, trying to salvage the situation.

"I’ll call back right away to clarify."

As he spoke, he was already reaching for his phone.

"No need."

Sinclair turned on his heel, his long strides carrying him toward the office.

His tone was detached, giving no hint of emotion.

Weren’t the CEO and his wife perfectly fine this morning?

What could have happened now?

Ramsey knew his boss was in a foul mood. Calvin turned to leave, hoping to avoid the fallout.

But before he could take a step, the man’s cold, clear voice cut through the air behind him. ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

"Come with me."

"...Yes."

Ramsey gave a resigned tug at the corner of his mouth and followed. Inside the office.

The strikingly handsome man sat on the leather sofa, a cigarette between his fingers.

Pale gray smoke curled from his thin lips, dissipating into the air.

His narrow, obsidian-dark eyes were fixed intently ahead.

A few more punishments like last night’s would be the death of him.

There were no unnecessary movements, not a single word spoken, yet the suffocating aura radiating from the man had Ramsey treading on thin ice. If he had committed any crimes, let the law punish him.

Not this—not enduring President Luther’s psychological torment.

Only after finishing his cigarette did Sinclair finally speak.

"Do you know how to make a girl happy?"

"Sir, I’ll—"

Ramsey instinctively lowered his head in response, but his words trailed off mid-sentence.

Calvin looked up at Sinclair, unsure if he had heard correctly.

"Pardon... what did you just say?"

Sinclair lifted his gaze, his expression unreadable as he regarded Ramsey. "Didn’t catch that?"

His tone was cool, giving nothing away.

"No, no, I heard you," Ramsey quickly replied, though his brows furrowed in discomfort.

"It’s just... I’ve never even been in a relationship before.

You might be asking the wrong guy here."

His voice noticeably softened as he spoke the last few words, careful not to provoke the man before him.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to date.

Growing up, he had studied alongside Sinclair, mastering every skill required of them.

What Sinclair grasped effortlessly took him three times as long—sometimes even more.

His youth had been consumed by those endless lessons, leaving no room for even the faintest whisper of a first love.

And now?

Time was no longer an issue, but the right person remained elusive.

"I suppose I’ve overlooked that," Sinclair murmured, his tall frame reclining lazily against the sofa, his dark, narrow eyes half-lidded.

"I’ll have Uncle Carlos arrange something for you soon."

"Boss Luther, I’m a firm believer in free love," Ramsey protested, shaking his head vigorously.

"After all my years of loyal service—running myself ragged for you—please, just let this one go."

Though the real reason, of course, was simpler: Calvin didn’t trust his father’s taste.

Sinclair remained impassive, neither agreeing nor refusing.

"By the way, President Luther," Ramsey quickly changed the subject.

"I may not know how to cheer up a girl, but there’s definitely someone who does." Sinclair raised an eyebrow.

Ramsey immediately continued.

"President Calvin."

Calvin?

A subtle flicker crossed Sinclair’s brow.