My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 261: The Strangest Thing

Ric’s breath hitched as Cammy wrapped her arms around his neck, pulling him closer, anchoring herself to the warmth of his body.

Their kiss deepened—slow, searching, full of restrained longing. Her fingers brushed the nape of his neck, gently, tenderly, as if reassuring herself that this moment was real, that she was still here, still breathing.

’Greg is still in my heart... but Ric is my husband now,’ Cammy thought, her heart tightening. ’I can’t give my heart to him—not yet... but at least I can give him this. A piece of peace. A piece of me.’

With trembling hands, she reached up and began to unbutton Ric’s shirt—slowly, deliberately—her eyes closed, kissing him still. The fabric fell open, revealing the warmth of his skin, and just as she leaned in to kiss the curve of his shoulder, Ric gently pulled back.

"Cams," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion, "are you sure about this?" ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

Cammy didn’t answer with words. She only nodded—once—eyes clear, steady. Then she kissed him again, soft and sure. Her hands moved to his waist, her touch speaking all the things she couldn’t say.

Ric let out a quiet sigh and, as if surrendering to the gravity between them, lifted her up into his arms. Cammy instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist, and their kiss continued.

He carried her through the dim hallway, their shadows dancing along the walls, until he gently laid her down on his bed. For a moment, he simply looked at her—his bride, his wife, the woman he had waited so long to love.

Cammy reached for him again, pulling his shirt off completely. Her fingers found the button of his pants and started to unzip them, her breath shallow, her hands trembling from the weight of everything this meant.

But just as her fingers moved to undress him fully, Ric suddenly stilled.

He cupped her hand—gently, firmly—stopping her.

Cammy looked up, startled, her lips slightly parted. Ric’s gaze met hers, intense and conflicted.

"I want you, Cammy. God, I do," he whispered. "But not like this. Not when your heart is somewhere else."

Her breath caught.

Ric leaned down, his forehead resting against hers. "I can wait. When you kiss me and it’s only me in your heart... that is when I want all of you. I want it to be natural, a real one. Not a fake one out of obligation."

Tears pricked at Cammy’s eyes. And for the first time in a long time, she felt the strangest thing—safe.

She closed her eyes and nodded, burying her face into Ric’s chest, where his heartbeat thudded steadily and strongly. They lay together in the quiet, tangled in arms and silence—not as lovers, but as two people trying to heal... together.

And for now, that was enough.

After a long, aching silence wrapped in warmth and unsaid feelings, Ric pressed a tender kiss to Cammy’s temple. The gesture was soft, reverent—his way of letting go without resentment.

"You should go back to Dylan," he said quietly, his voice hoarse but steady. "Before he notices you’re gone. Tomorrow’s going to be hard. I’ll go with you and Dylan to the hospital. I’ll stay with you the whole week... hell, even two weeks, if that’s what it takes. Until you’re ready to go back to work."

Cammy looked at him, her heart a tangled mess of gratitude, guilt, and unspoken affection. "Alright," she whispered. "Thank you... for doing all of this. Even if you don’t have to."

Ric gave her a look that silenced every excuse she could’ve offered. "Yes, I do have to, Cammy. I’m not just your husband. I’m still your friend. And I know you’ll be crying tomorrow—don’t lie to me. I want to be there when you fall apart. You don’t have to face it alone anymore."

Then he sat up, running a hand through his hair to compose himself, before gently pulling her up with him. "Now go," he added with a weak chuckle, trying to lighten the moment. "I’m still a man, you know. And you—being here in my bed, wearing that look on your face—it’s taking everything in me not to kiss you again."

Cammy let out a soft laugh, the tension in her chest loosening just a little. She nodded, turned, and slipped quietly out of the room.

But she didn’t go back to Dylan—not right away.

She stepped into the en suite bathroom, turned on the faucet of the bathtub, and without waiting for it to fill, sat down inside, still fully clothed in her wedding dress.

The coolness of the water bit at her skin like a necessary penance. Her hands slowly rested on her still-flat belly.

The silence echoed around her, broken only by the rush of water and the quiet throb of her sorrow.

"I have to be strong," she whispered, her voice shaking. "Not just for Dylan... but for you too. I can’t lose this baby."

A tear rolled down her cheek, followed by another.

"This baby... is the only part of Greg I have left. It’s the only thing anchoring me to him."

Her fingers tightened slightly on her stomach, as if shielding the life growing inside her from the heartbreak clawing at her chest. In that quiet space, Cammy made a vow—not just to survive, but to hold on. For her son. For her unborn child. For the piece of her heart that still belonged to a man watching from the shadows.

She leaned back against the porcelain, letting the water rise around her legs, her mind spiraling in a storm of memories and unspoken goodbyes. Greg’s face flickered behind her closed eyes—his smile, his tears, the silent encouragement he gave her just before walking away.

A part of her screamed to run after him, to undo everything, but another part—smaller, steadier—told her to stay still. For the baby. For Dylan. For the quiet promise of peace Ric had offered.

"I will carry you with me," she whispered again to the baby, her voice trembling. "I will protect you. I promise."