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Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 385: So he knows everything?
So... Sinclair knows everything?!
The terror and desperation in Jonathan’s eyes gradually gave way to utter despair.
Jonathan collapsed to the floor like a puppet with its strings cut, memories flooding back.
Back then, his father had bypassed him—the rightful heir—and focused all his efforts on grooming Sinclair as the next head of the Luther Family.
Overnight, he became a laughingstock, not just within the Luther Corporation, but across all of San Francisco.
Those who had once fawned over him, flattering him at every turn, suddenly turned their backs, sneering and keeping their distance.
From that moment on, no matter where he went, ridicule followed.
And so, his resentment toward his own son and father took root.
After much deliberation, he orchestrated Sinclair’s kidnapping and had him injected with drugs designed to destabilize his emotions and erode his self-control.
The Luther Family’s heir could never afford such a flaw.
His plan was simple: force his father and the family to abandon Sinclair.
After all, sons could always be replaced—but the position of the Luther Family’s patriarch was singular.
As long as Sinclair didn’t stand in his way, he could live as a madman, as a wreck.
Jonathan’d even promised himself to dote on the boy, to care for him... for the rest of his life.
At this point in his recollection, Jonathan’s pupils contracted sharply, his eyes clouded with inscrutable darkness.
Who would have thought that a mere child of a few years could escape on his own?
The intended dosage of the drug hadn’t been fully administered.
His father was furious.
While doing everything possible to treat Sinclair, he also multiplied the protective measures around him tenfold.
With no opportunity to act, Jonathan could only redirect all his resentment onto this woman.
Their home became a battleground of endless quarrels, and outside, his frustration festered.
It was then that Jonathan seized the moment to slip into his life.
Later, when she became pregnant, he lost all patience with his wife, demanding she relinquish her position as the rightful Madam Luther.
Only then could Jonathan and his child be recognized as legitimate heirs of the Luther Family, with a chance to wrest the title of successor from Sinclair’s grasp.
Jonathan instructed her caretakers to replace her antidepressants and filled her ears with relentless negativity.
Jonathan wanted her mind to fracture, to drive her to madness.
Yet he never expected she would choose suicide outright.
But he had long since destroyed the evidence.
After all these years, how could Sinclair have uncovered the truth?!
The thought extinguished any last flicker of hope for survival in Jonathan’s heart.
Jonathan knew with chilling certainty—there was no escaping his fate today.
"Sinclair," Jonathan gazed at the photograph on the tombstone, his voice hoarse and aged as he forced the words out with difficulty.
"I failed you as a father.
Kill me.
Let my death atone for what I’ve done."
His breath hitched, his plea barely audible over the pounding rain.
"Just one thing—grant me a quick end.
For the sake of the years we shared as father and son."
All these years, he had witnessed firsthand just how ruthless his son could be.
At this point, a swift death was the only mercy he dared hope for.
Sinclair’s dark, fathomless eyes remained fixed on Jonathan, his lips curling into a slow, chilling smile.
"Fine."
Ramsey couldn’t hide his surprise.
Had the boss actually softened?
Jonathan glanced up at the sky, but the heavy downpour had smothered everything in oppressive darkness.
Jonathan hadn’t expected such an easy agreement either.
Jonathan exhaled in shaky relief—until Sinclair spoke again.
"You thought I’d say that?"
The gun rose steadily in Sinclair’s hand, his striking features twisting with cold mockery as if savoring the desperation of cornered prey.
"Jonathan, I always repay debts—kindness or vengeance.
Mercy was never my virtue."
As he spoke, his finger tightened on the trigger.
"This shot is for the Luther Family."
**Bang!**
The gunshot tore through Jonathan’s knee, eliciting a bloodcurdling scream.
Crimson blood seeped through his clothes, only to be instantly washed away by the relentless downpour.
Everything happened in the blink of an eye.
Not far away, a slender figure halted mid-step, lifting her gaze toward the source of the gunshot.
Sinclair.
Camilla stood motionless, her clear eyes piercing through the heavy curtain of rain to fix on the tall, imposing silhouette in the distance.
Despite the considerable space between them, she could unmistakably sense the dangerous aura radiating from the man.
A sharp pang twisted in her chest.
Behind her, Luke, holding an umbrella, also felt the chilling intensity surrounding his employer.
"Madam, please wait here—"
Before he could finish, the woman in front of him had already stepped forward.
Luke’s expression hardened, and he immediately followed.
"Sinclair!"
Jonathan lay sprawled on the ground, his eyes bulging with hatred as he glared at Sinclair.
"You heartless, ungrateful monster—"
Bang.
Bang.
The sudden gunshots cut off Jonathan’s unfinished words.
A cold smirk curled Sinclair’s lips, his dark eyes like spilled ink—deep, unfathomable, and brimming with danger.
"These two bullets are for Grandfather and Mother."
The rain-soaked rounds tore through Jonathan’s abdomen in quick succession.
Blood gushed out, staining the rainwater beneath him crimson.
Agonizing pain wrenched a howl from Jonathan, his screams echoing through the cold, relentless downpour—a sound so harrowing it sent chills down the spine.
Ramsey and the others watched with icy detachment, not a shred of pity in their eyes.
The wounds were deliberately placed—non-fatal, but excruciating.
Right now, Jonathan was living a fate worse than death.
Serves you right.
Bang.
Bang.
"These two bullets are for Camilla.
As for this last one—"
Sinclair narrowed his sharp eyes, pressing the gun barrel against Jonathan’s forehead.
The crimson veins surfacing in his eyes amplified his aura of ruthless madness.
Jonathan, now drenched in blood, had his face contorted in agony, his eyes bulging with terror.
The excruciating pain had far surpassed the limits of human endurance.
The veins on Sinclair’s hand bulged as his finger tensed on the trigger.
But just then, a woman’s voice, laced with urgency, cut through the tension.
"Sweetheart, wait."
Sinclair’s grip on the gun faltered slightly as he turned his head toward the voice.
The icy darkness in his eyes thawed ever so slightly.
"Camilla?"
Camilla quickened her pace, closing the distance between them.
Her warm hand enveloped Sinclair’s cold fingers around the gun.
The freezing touch sent a tremor through her pupils.
Ramsey and the others frowned, confusion flickering across their faces.
Could it be...that the madam is here to persuade President Luther to spare Jonathan?