Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 427: Stephen Mega finally meet Camilla

*Knock knock knock.*

*Knock knock knock.*

Ramsey’s voice sounded from outside the door.

"President Luther—"

The sudden return of Ramsey made Camilla pause, her brows furrowing as she glanced toward the door.

*What’s going on?*

"Don’t worry, nothing’s wrong."

Sinclair placed a perfectly prepared piece of snow-white fish at Camilla’s lips, his expression calm and gentle.

Camilla nodded and parted her lips.

A satisfied gleam flickered in Sinclair’s eyes.

"Come in."

His deep voice betrayed no emotion.

"President Luther, Madam." The door opened from the outside as Ramsey stepped in.

"Mr. Mega is here, waiting outside."

Ramsey briefly recounted their conversation. Mr. Mega?

Camilla’s eyes narrowed slightly.

She’d heard Sinclair mention this man before.

The illegitimate son of the late grandpa Mega, he’d carved out his own place in the Mega family through sheer capability.

By blood, he was Antonio’s uncle. In reality, they were sworn enemies.

It was from him they’d obtained Antonio’s whereabouts.

But how did he know she and Sinclair were here?

Surveillance?

Following them?

Camilla glanced at the man before her and immediately dismissed the thought.

If that were the case, Sinclair would have noticed.

Yet calling it coincidence seemed far too convenient.

Sinclair’s expression remained impassively cold, his detached gaze suggesting nothing in the world could unsettle him.

"Let him in."

Since he was here, he must have something to say.

All he had to do was wait and see.

"Yes, sir."

Ramsey nodded and stepped out.

"Mr. Mega, Mr. Luther requests your presence inside."

Stephen curled his lips slightly and glanced back at the young man behind him.

"Wait here."

"Yes, sir."

The young man gave Ramsey a quick look before nodding in acknowledgment.

Stephen maneuvered his wheelchair toward the hospital room.

Ramsey stepped aside.

As Stephen passed by, Ramsey’s gaze involuntarily drifted to the long legs beneath the tailored suit pants, a flicker of pity flashing in his eyes.

Inside the hospital room...

Sinclair continued feeding Camilla at a leisurely pace, utterly indifferent to whether the visitor might witness the scene.

"Open wide, sweetheart."

Camilla’s brows furrowed slightly for a moment, but she obediently took the bite.

Sinclair lowered his gaze, ready to continue feeding her.

But Camilla shook her head, stopping him quickly.

"Sweetheart, I can’t eat anymore."

Perhaps it was because of the pregnancy.

Though she felt hungry, her appetite wasn’t as strong as before—just a few bites and she was full.

Sinclair seemed to notice this too.

His deep eyes narrowed slightly, a trace of concern flickering in their depths.

If she didn’t get enough nutrients, the baby would draw from her own reserves.

Sinclair had to find a way.

"Just one more bite," Sinclair brought another piece of fish to her lips, his voice softening with coaxing warmth.

"Last one?"

Camilla didn’t want to eat, but she couldn’t bring herself to refuse her husband’s care.

"Okay," Sinclair’s gaze softened, his hand still holding the fork steady.

"Last bite."

Camilla obediently ate the piece of fish upon hearing this.

Sinclair, true to his word, didn’t press further.

Sinclair set down his utensils, picked up a napkin, and gently dabbed the corners of her lips.

His expression was focused, his movements tender, as though handling something extraordinarily precious—which, of course, was exactly how he viewed her.

Camilla’s eyes curved into crescents as she basked in her husband’s attentive care.

Once finished, Sinclair leaned down and pressed a light kiss to her lips—brief, chaste, and devoid of any deeper intent.

Just then, Stephen wheeled himself into the hospital room and froze at the sight.

Behind his glasses, his eyes flickered with surprise.

Mr. Luther—the aloof, formidable man known for his unapproachable demeanor—had such a gentle, devoted side?

Ramsey, who had followed Stephen in, took in his reaction with the calm amusement of someone who had seen it all before.

*Looks like I’m not the only one getting a taste of this lovey-dovey display today.*

Sinclair and Camilla naturally noticed the newcomers and turned their composed gazes toward them.

Stephen’s smile faltered for a fraction of a second before deepening.

Stephen continued forward in his wheelchair, voice warm and measured.

"President Luther and his wife make such a devoted couple.

Truly enviable."

Only when he stepped closer did he get a clear view of the person shielded behind Sinclair.

The woman wore silk loungewear, her delicate features forming an exquisite, breathtaking face.

Despite her stunning beauty, she carried an air of icy elegance—unique and untouchable.

Her slightly pale complexion didn’t diminish her allure in the slightest; instead, it added a fragile, ethereal charm that tugged at one’s heartstrings.

Proof that true beauty remains captivating in any state.

A flicker of admiration passed through Stephen’s eyes.

Now he could somewhat understand Antonio’s obsession.

Understanding, however, didn’t equate to approval.

Another man’s wife, no matter how remarkable, was still another man’s.

While Stephen studied Camilla, she was equally assessing him.

His profile bore a fifty percent resemblance to Antonio’s, though his jawline was sharper, his demeanor more composed and understated.

Even seated in a wheelchair, his posture remained as straight and unyielding as a pine tree, devoid of any shadow of gloom or defeat.

"Well?"

Sinclair tossed the handkerchief aside, his dark eyes glinting with unreadable depth as he regarded Stephen with a faint, mocking smile.

"Mr. Mega, did you come here just to see my wife?"

The deep, magnetic voice carried its usual calmness, yet an inexplicable chill seeped through the words.

Ramsey remained unfazed, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary, though his hands moved slightly faster as he cleared the dishes.

Stephen, despite his usual social finesse, faltered for a moment under the weight of such blatant jealousy.

It was the first time he had ever witnessed genuine emotion from Sinclair—even if it was directed at him.

Camilla, long accustomed to her husband’s possessive tendencies, suppressed a sigh before offering a conciliatory smile.

"Apologies, Mr. Mega.

My husband has a peculiar sense of humor."

Her words eased the tension, if only slightly.

"Clearly," Stephen replied, his refined features settling back into a polite, practiced smile as he regarded Sinclair’s icy, unreadable expression.

"Mr. Luther does have a unique charm."

Even Camilla had to admire Stephen’s acting skills at that moment.

Sinclair, the epitome of "unique charm," remained silent.

"Perhaps we should get straight to business."

Stephen gave a slight nod.

Camilla spoke up before either of them could.

"You two talk. I’ll step out for some air."

Clearly, she intended to excuse herself and give them space.

"No need."

"No need." Two voices—one deep and commanding, the other gentle and refined—responded in unison.

Camilla froze in surprise.

It made sense that Sinclair would want her to stay; he rarely kept anything from her.

But as for him...

Her beautiful eyes narrowed thoughtfully as she studied Stephen.

Could his purpose for coming here have something to do with her?

Sinclair’s dark, fathomless eyes narrowed slightly, his gaze fixed on Stephen with an unspoken pressure, waiting for him to continue.

Ramsey silently translated his boss’s expression in his mind: *If you dare drag my wife into this, you’d better have a damn good reason.*

"Here’s the thing," Stephen coughed twice into his fist, the bitterness of jealousy catching in his throat.

When he looked up again, the practiced smile on his face had faded, replaced by a more genuine expression.

Stephen cut straight to the point.

"I came here to ask for Mrs. Luther’s help."

No surprise there. Camilla leaned back against the headboard, her expression unreadable.

Sinclair remained impassive, his cool gaze drifting briefly to Stephen’s legs, hidden beneath his tailored suit pants.

"You guessed right, President Luther," Stephen said, his pale, slender fingers tapping lightly on the armrest of his wheelchair.

A faint, self-deprecating smile tugged at his lips.

"It’s about these legs."

Following his words, Camilla’s gaze shifted downward to his motionless limbs.