Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 364: Don’t tell me Melissa ran away with Vincent

"Melissa,"

Vicente gazed at Melissa, his deep-set eyes brimming with tender amusement.

Melissa responded with a cold huff, deliberately ignoring him.

"Melissa," Leaning in closer, Vicente brought his strikingly handsome face near hers.

His low, velvety voice seemed to resonate from deep within his throat, carrying an irresistible charm.

"I truly know I was wrong."

Melissa?!

The unexpected endearment caught Melissa off guard.

A rosy blush instantly spread across her cheeks as realization dawned.

"W-who said you could call me that?"

She pressed her lips together, her eyes flickering with flustered unease.

"I’m not talking to you anymore."

With that, she lifted her chin and made it to step past Vicente, determined to continue walking ahead.

So reasoning wasn’t going to work, huh?

A faint trace of resignation flickered through Vicente’s eyes.

As she approached the man, a muscular arm suddenly wrapped around her slender waist, effortlessly lifting her off the ground as he carried her toward the villa with single-handed ease.

"It’s not like San Francisco here—danger could be lurking anywhere.

You can’t just run off," Vicente said, his usually stern voice softened to its gentlest.

"Once we’re back, you can make me apologize however you want, alright?

Just... please?"

Ugh, this trick again?!

"No!"

Melissa scowled, squirming in his grip.

"Vicente, put me down!

I want to leave—now!"

The more she struggled, the tighter his arm coiled around her waist.

"Stop fussing," he murmured, his towering frame—broad shoulders, narrow waist, and long legs—making her seem even more delicate in contrast.

The sheer difference in their builds radiated undeniable tension.

Nearby, a few men exchanged knowing glances, smirking among themselves.

Who would’ve thought that Vincent, notorious for his ruthlessness among their circle, had such a tender side?

Guess you really do see something new every day. —

Meanwhile, at the Taylor Family Estate.

Despite his own pressing concerns, Calvin caught the significance of Taylor’s words.

"Melissa left with Vicente?"

Melissa was Taylor’s younger sister, which made her practically family to both him and Sinclair.

Naturally, he had to ask.

"Yeah,"

Taylor nodded, briefly recounting how Melissa had stowed away in a suitcase to sneak into the plane’s cargo hold.

A wry, helpless smile tugged at his lips.

"Tell me, does this count as inviting a wolf into the house?"

Not that he had any complaints about Vicente himself.

It was the man’s background and the burdens he carried that gave him pause.

Calvin exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his dark eyes flicking toward Taylor with detached amusement.

"Absolutely."

Taylor: " Calvin shouldn’t have expected any comfort from the man before him.

"I’ve arranged things with Vicente for you.

It’s time you headed back."

The dismissal couldn’t have been clearer.

"Let me finish this cigarette."

Calvin’s impossibly refined face remained expressionless as he took another slow drag.

Thick, grayish-white smoke curled from his lips and nostrils, dissipating lazily into the air.

The spacious study was thick with the scent of nicotine.

Taylor said nothing more, simply lighting a cigarette of his own.

Just then, the butler hurried in from outside.

"Sir, Miss Violet is here."

Miss Violet?

Thanks to Taylor, Calvin was acutely sensitive to that name.

His gaze immediately flicked toward the butler.

"Violet?" The butler nodded.

"Yes."

She was already outside—even if Calvin left now, he’d see her.

There was no point hiding it.

Calvin frowned, glancing at his friend but choosing not to say more.

Taylor’s dark eyes lowered briefly before returning to their usual calm, a mocking smile playing at the corners of his lips.

"Find out what she wants this time," he said coolly.

The butler sighed helplessly.

"I asked, but Miss Violet still refuses to say."

Miss Violet appeared delicate and fragile, yet her stubbornness surpassed anyone else’s.

It had always been this way, from the past until now.

"If she won’t talk, let her stay outside," Taylor leaned back into the sofa, his warm yet dark eyes filled with derision and frost.

"She can come in when she drops the act."

Taylor wasn’t a saint—he had no intention of indulging someone who had once abandoned him.

Hearing this, the butler exhaled quietly in relief.

"Understood."

Without another word, he turned and left.

The Butler had truly feared his master might soften, but that girl...

At this thought, the butler sighed deeply once more, his eyes clouded with unreadable emotions.

"In matters of the heart, Sinclair is far luckier than any of us—it’s downright enviable," Calvin remarked as he stubbed out his cigarette and rose from the sofa.

"I need to check on Fanny’s situation. I’ll take my leave now."

"Hmm,"

Taylor responded quietly, his tone inscrutable—whether he was acknowledging the earlier sentiment or merely the farewell remained unclear.

"Miss Violet,"

The butler regarded Violet with a composed yet distant expression.

"Mr. Taylor is currently occupied.

If you have urgent matters, you may relay them to me first.

Only if it’s truly pressing would I dare disturb him."

The Butler paused briefly before continuing, his tone measured.

"If it can wait, you’re welcome to remain here for the time being."

Violet understood—this was Taylor’s doing.

But some things could only be discussed with him directly.

Pressing her lips together, she nodded gracefully, her voice as serene as ever.

"Then I’ll wait here.

Please don’t let me keep you from your duties."

The butler studied her for a moment, sighed inwardly once more, then nodded and withdrew without another word.

As Calvin stepped out of the Taylor family estate, his gaze fell upon the woman standing at the entrance.

Clad in a pale green qipao dress, her porcelain skin and gentle demeanor exuded the timeless elegance of a classic beauty.

Yet this very woman, who appeared so harmless, had nearly cost him a dear friend.

At this thought, a chilling glint surfaced in Calvin’s upturned peach blossom eyes.

When Calvin spotted Voilet, she naturally noticed him as well.

Her lashes fluttered slightly, her fair face still radiating the same gentle grace.

"Calvin, it’s been a while."

Back when she was by Taylor’s side, they had been on friendly terms.

"Indeed, it has," Calvin halted his steps, his thin lips curling into a faint smirk as he regarded her with a voice devoid of warmth, lazily drawled.

"I never expected you’d have the nerve to come back, Miss Violet."

The words were nothing short of merciless.

Violet’s eyes trembled imperceptibly, a fleeting shadow of humiliation flashing deep within.

She bit her lip lightly but chose not to respond.

"Years ago, I thought I’d underestimated you, Miss Violet," Yet Calvin had no intention of letting her off so easily.

"Turns out, even now, I still feel the same way."

Calvin took a few deliberate steps forward, closing the distance between them, his gaze brimming with icy amusement and scorn.

"I don’t care what brought you back this time, but if you dare harm Taylor again, I won’t let you off the hook—nor anyone who came back with you."

The only person who had returned with her was Ace.

Violet immediately looked up at Calvin, her eyes brimming with unconcealed fear.

"I would never hurt Taylor.

What happened back then wasn’t what you all think—I..."

"Save your explanations for Taylor.

After all, he was the one you hurt, not anyone else," Calvin cut her off, his voice icy.

"Though whether he’ll even listen is another matter."

Without another word, he brushed past her, got into his car, and sped off.

Violet bit down hard on her lower lip, her eyes glistening like mist-covered lakes.

People said she had nearly destroyed Taylor, but the pain she had endured was even worse.

Taylor still had friends and family by his side—back then, she had no one.

A breeze swept by, drying the tear that had slipped down her cheek, leaving her feeling even colder.

She wrapped her arms around herself and gazed toward the manor.

She had to see Taylor.

Only he could help with Ace’s situation.

Upstairs, by the second-floor window, Taylor stood with his hands in his pockets, watching.

His gaze was icy as it rested on the pale green figure at the doorstep, the depths of his eyes brimming with undisguised mockery.

A closer look revealed a trace of self-deprecation as well.

Was this performance meant to ensure his sympathy?

Luther Family Villa.

"I’m heading to Country E," Sinclair announced, his dark, unreadable eyes fixed on Ramsey and Luke.

His voice was cool, devoid of inflection.

"But before that, to be thorough, we must first

remove the tumor within the Luther Family."

The identity of this "tumor" needed no explanation.

Ramsey and Luke exchanged a glance, their expressions growing graver as they awaited their boss’s next command.

"Spread the word," Sinclair continued slowly, his long, well-defined fingers tapping idly against the desk.

"Grandpa intends to hand over Luther Corporation to Camilla."

The more someone coveted something, the more likely they were to be destroyed by it.

This news would undoubtedly be the final straw that crushed that person.

Luther Corporation—handed to Madam?!

Even prepared as they were, Ramsey and Luke couldn’t help but stiffen in shock.

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