My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 275: Pit Stop

Instead of driving all the way to the mansion, the group headed to Greg’s sleek penthouse overlooking the city skyline. It was already late, and the air was heavy with anticipation. Greg’s driver had taken Edward home, leaving just the three of them in the dimly lit, modern living room.

Greg couldn’t wait any longer. The silence was suffocating.

"Grace," he said firmly as he loosened his tie and dropped into the leather armchair across from her, "stop dragging this out. Whatever it is, just hit me with it. I’m tired of guessing."

Grace nodded once, her expression unreadable as she sat down on the sofa and placed a thick folder and a USB stick on the glass coffee table between them. Her voice dropped to a serious, almost conspiratorial tone.

"While you were away," she began, "my team found something... something big."

Greg leaned forward, his eyes narrowing.

Grace continued, "Remember the two witnesses from the shipping scandal? The ones who mysteriously ’died’ just days before they were set to testify?"

Greg nodded, jaw clenched.

"They left behind something," she said. "A video confession. Both of them. They knew they were being hunted. They recorded everything."

Greg’s heart skipped a beat—but before he could react, Grace added, "Unfortunately, their wives were so terrified, they panicked. Threw the flash drive into a lake. Thought it would keep their families safe."

Greg’s brows furrowed, his voice sharp. "Then how is this good news, Grace? You’re telling me the only evidence that could clear my company and destroy Duncan is sitting at the bottom of a lake?"

"Was," Grace said with a sly grin. "Not anymore."

She leaned in, her voice dropping into a whisper. "A man was fishing there that day. He saw them toss something into the water—saw their fear, their urgency. He retrieved it, thinking it might be valuable. Took it to a data tech he knows. And guess what? The files were recoverable. The entire confession was intact."

Greg stared at her, stunned. "You’re serious?"

Grace nodded, her eyes gleaming. "Dead serious. He’s holding it for ransom now. Wants five million dollars."

Greg shot up from his seat, pacing in disbelief. "So we’re being blackmailed, and you’re smiling about it?"

Grace grinned wider. "Because this blackmail is a blessing. My legal team verified the footage. It’s authentic. Names, dates, full confessions. And not just about the smuggling, some of the names who are working or connected to Duncan come up. Repeatedly. This could be the nail in his coffin."

Greg stopped pacing, breathing hard.

"If we present this in court tomorrow," Grace said, eyes locked on his, "not only will it shift the tide, but with her conservatorship being transferred to you, we can argue for full legal and financial autonomy. Duncan’s grip on CorEx will crumble."

Greg let out a long breath, the weight of months of suffering pressing against his ribs. "And what about the work I did overseas? All the hearings, all the negotiations?"

Grace stood, walked over, and placed a hand on his shoulder. "You gave them false confidence. Made them think we were blind and desperate. Tomorrow, they won’t even see the punch coming."

Greg stared at her for a moment before pulling out his phone. "Alright. Send the fund request. Let’s end this."

Grace tapped quickly on her phone, then smirked. "Sent. Just approve it and I’m out. This drama today fried my brain."

Greg’s phone chimed. He glanced at the screen and hit approve. "Done."

Grace picked up her coat. "Good luck tomorrow, Mr. Cross. And congrats—on everything." With a wink, she disappeared into the elevator.

Silence fell again—until Harry broke it.

"So," he said, slouching onto the couch, "you’re really gonna be a married man tomorrow, huh?"

Greg let out a half-laugh, half-sigh. "Yeah. It’s about damn time. And once I do, every single person who made Cammy suffer? I swear to God, they’re going to feel every ounce of pain she did... and more." freewebnσvel.cѳm

Harry raised his eyebrows, impressed. "Remind me never to cross you, man."

Greg smirked, then gave him a playful nudge. "Your turn. When are you getting married?"

Harry stood with a groan and started walking toward the door. "Oops—look at the time. I think that’s my cue to leave. See you tomorrow, lover boy."

And just like that, he was gone—leaving Greg alone in the stillness of the night, staring out the window, the weight of justice, revenge, and love pressing heavy on his chest.

The next morning, the sky was still painted in shades of indigo when Greg walked into the hospital lobby.

He made his way to Cammy’s room, carrying a fresh croissant from her favorite café, its warmth still trapped inside the paper bag. But as he entered, he saw her fast asleep—peaceful, fragile, unaware.

Greg lingered for a moment, his heart softening at the sight of her. Then he handed the croissant to Andrea, who was already tidying up the bedside table.

"If she wakes up before I return, tell her I’ll be back tonight. She has to eat that while it’s warm," he murmured.

Andrea gave him a knowing look and a gentle nod.

Greg’s next stop was his father’s room.

Unlike Cammy’s tranquil space, the air here buzzed with energy. The blinds were drawn wide, sunlight flooding the suite, and Richard Cross sat upright in bed like a king on a throne, his laptop open, breakfast tray pushed slightly aside as he typed away like he was orchestrating an empire.

Richard didn’t look up as Greg entered. "Well, well. If I knew landing in the hospital meant seeing my son more often, I would’ve faked a stroke ten years ago."

Greg smirked but didn’t entertain the jab. "Don’t flatter yourself. I was here to see Cammy. She’s still asleep. You’re just... a pit stop."

"Ouch." Richard finally looked at him with a faint sneer. "Still, you came. That has to count for something."

Greg folded his arms. "Let’s cut the banter. I’m registering my marriage to Cammy today."

Richard’s fingers froze on the keyboard.

Greg pressed on. "And I’m not just here to inform you. I want your help. I know you still have influence—judges, prosecutors, board members. I need you to use that power to help Cammy’s case. Push things forward."

The silence between them thickened.

Richard slowly closed the laptop and set it aside with a quiet click. His gaze sharpened like ice as he looked up at his son.

"You dare walk in here," he said, voice trembling with restrained fury, "and ask me to help that woman?"

Greg held his ground. "Yes. Because I love her. And because she’s carrying my child."

"She’s a disgrace!" Richard snapped, voice rising. "A scandal magnet. A convict. A woman whose blood is poisoned by Monica. And you expect me to welcome her into the Cross family? You expect me to tarnish our legacy with the blood of that woman?"

The words hit like bullets, but Greg didn’t flinch. His jaw tightened, his eyes darkening.

"I don’t care about legacy," he said through clenched teeth. "Not the one you built on fear, lies, and control. I’m building a new one—with Cammy. With our children. With honesty and love, not manipulation."

Richard’s face turned red, veins on his temple visible now. "You ungrateful little—"

"No, you listen," Greg cut him off, voice low but burning. "I respected you once. I wanted to be like you. But you’ve turned into a man who values power more than people. Well, I won’t follow that path. If you can’t stand beside me, fine. But get in my way, and I’ll bulldoze right through you."

For a moment, the room pulsed with tension so thick it was hard to breathe.

Richard looked at his son, and something flickered behind his eyes—was it regret? Bitterness? Or just the shock of watching the boy he once controlled now speak to him like an equal, a rival?

Greg turned to leave but paused at the door.

"If there’s still a heart in you, Dad... use it. Help Cammy. Not for me. Not for you. But because deep down, you know she doesn’t deserve what happened to her."