Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 423: Camilla has fainted

The next day, at noon.

Sunlight streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows, flooding the room.

The already bright space seemed bathed in a golden halo, radiating an indescribable warmth and serenity.

Camilla stood barefoot on the sunlit wooden floor, admiring the distant forest and lake.

The breeze carried the crisp, fresh scent of nature, and she found herself relaxing completely.

How perfect.

No wonder young people these days dream of quitting their jobs and escaping to picturesque hideaways.

"You like it that much?"

A deep, doting voice murmured by her ear as Camilla found herself swept into a man’s arms in a princess carry.

"Couldn’t even bother with shoes?"

Sinclair set her down on the sofa, then knelt before her.

His slender, pale fingers carefully slipped the prepared shoes onto her feet.

Camilla gazed at the tender, focused man before her, warmth blooming in her chest until it reached her eyes, her lips curving into an irrepressible smile.

Once the shoes were on, Sinclair looked up to see his wife beaming at him.

His thin lips quirked into an indulgent arc.

"What is it?"

"I think... I’m the luckiest woman in the world," Camilla murmured, leaning forward to loop her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead to his.

"Sweetheart, thank you. And—" She paused deliberately, then enunciated each word with crystalline clarity.

"I. Love. You."

Three simple words, yet they stole his breath away.

Sinclair pressed a kiss to her forehead.

His low, husky voice cut through the quiet with solemn weight, carrying the gravity of a vow.

"I love you too."

"I love you too."

A love that seeps into the bones, pierces the heart, fills the lungs.

A love that can love no more.

Their hearts drew closer, as did their bodies.

The air was thick with sweetness.

But just then— The phone in Sinclair’s pocket suddenly rang.

"Ring—"

"Ring—"

The sudden shrill of the phone shattered the intimate atmosphere.

Sinclair’s brows furrowed, his expression visibly darkening in an instant.

Camilla, however, remained unfazed.

Leaning in, she pressed a soft kiss to his lips, her eyes crinkling with a playful smile.

"Go ahead and take it," she said.

"I’ll head downstairs to get lunch ready."

"It’s Taylor," Sinclair murmured, glancing at the caller ID before his gaze softened as it returned to her.

"Just pick out what you’d like to eat.

I’ll come down and cook for you after the call."

"Alright," Camilla nodded absently, though her mind was already racing with ideas for dishes to prepare for her husband.

Only after she left did Sinclair finally answer the call.

"What is it?"

"Tsk, tsk," Taylor detected the displeasure in his friend’s tone, and a knowing glint flickered in his eyes as he teased gently, "Don’t tell me I’ve *coincidentally* interrupted you again?"

Sinclair’s deep, dark gaze drifted toward the window, narrowing slightly.

"What do you think?"

His voice was icy and flat, revealing nothing of his true emotions.

"Seems like I have," Taylor chuckled.

"Back then, I worried your cold-hearted nature would leave you lonely for life.

Who knew marriage would—"

Taylor left the rest unsaid, but both men understood.

Sinclair didn’t deny it, merely arching an eyebrow.

"Been a few days.

Since when did you pick up habits from Calvin?"

"To learn from him, I’d actually have to *see* him first," Taylor exhaled a slow stream of smoke, his mellow voice laced with amusement.

"Ever since he got serious with Tiffany, he’s turned into the ultimate doting boyfriend—spare moment?

Straight to her hospital bedside.

Meeting him now requires an appointment."

His smiling eyes narrowed slowly.

"To be honest, I never noticed that trait in him before."

"You’ll get used to it," Sinclair replied, the corners of his lips curling into a faint, almost imperceptible smirk.

"Alright, get to the point.

Why the call?"

Taylor’s calm, measured voice came through the phone.

"I’m heading to Country E in the next couple of days."

"For Melissa?"

Sinclair slid one hand into his pocket, gazing out the window with an unreadable expression.

His handsome face betrayed no surprise.

"I thought you’d already given your silent approval."

Otherwise, he wouldn’t have held back this long.

"What else can I do?

Emotions are the hardest thing to control.

The more you resist, the worse it backfires."

A wry, almost paternal smile tugged at Taylor’s lips.

"Setting everything else aside, Vicente is a good man.

That’s why I’m willing to give them time."

Sinclair sensed that Taylor’s trip wasn’t solely about Melissa.

Sinclair remained silent, waiting for him to continue.

"My trip to Country E this time is mainly for the charity banquet hosted by the royal family in two days, and—"

Taylor’s voice carried a hint of resignation. "—a fiancée I only just found out about."

The latter part of the sentence made Sinclair’s usually indifferent and handsome face flicker with rare surprise.

"Fiancée?"

"You heard right. A fiancée."

Taylor rubbed his temples with a bitter smile. "I just got the news myself.

It’s a long story—we’ll talk in person."

Taylor stubbed out his cigarette, finally revealing the real purpose of the call.

"But there are a few things I need you to look into for me first."

A glint of amusement flashed in Sinclair’s eyes.

"No problem."

After hanging up, he strode downstairs with his long legs.

"Sweetheart, your favorite—"

His words died in his throat as he spotted Camilla collapsed in the living room.

His pupils constricted violently, and his tall frame swayed ever so slightly.

"Camilla!"

Sinclair rushed to Camilla’s side in an instant, pulling her into his arms.

His usually calm voice trembled uncontrollably.

"Camilla—" Camilla’s eyes were tightly shut, her face unnaturally pale, giving no response.

She had been fine just moments ago—how could this happen?!

Sinclair felt as though thousands of needles had pierced his heart all at once, his breath catching in his throat.

A sudden, unbidden image flashed through his mind—her lifeless body, clad in a white dress, lying motionless on a bed.

Sinclair shook his head, forcing down the surge of panic and dread, and dialed Ramsey’s number.

"Get here. Now.

Fast as you can."

His long fingers gripped the phone so tightly they turned white at the knuckles.

What’s wrong with Mr. Luther?

* Ramsey was startled by the hoarse, strained voice that sounded as if it had been wrenched from Sinclair’s throat.

"Y-yes, sir! I’m on my way!"

The line buzzed with frantic movement before the roar of an engine cut through.

But Sinclair heard none of it.

His expression icy, he cradled Camilla against his chest and strode down the mountain path.

The air around him turned frigid, heavy with an aura so dark it seemed to chill the very atmosphere.