Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 441: Camilla and Sinclair visit to Stephen Mega mansion

"I used to think,"

Camilla murmured, her fingers tracing the smooth curve of her abdomen, her voice soft and tender, "that meeting you again had already used up all my luck.

But now, with the baby coming and news about Grandpa..."

Her thick lashes fluttered almost imperceptibly as she gazed at the scenery blurring past the window.

"Everything—absolutely everything—is moving in the right direction.

It’s as if fate has decided to spoil me in this lifetime.

I can hardly believe it... and it scares me a little."

The thought of losing even a single thing she now held terrified her.

The fear that she might wake up one day only to find herself back in her past life, that all of this was nothing but a fleeting dream before her soul dissolved—she couldn’t bear to dwell on it.

When Camilla spoke of "meeting again," she meant her rebirth.

But to Sinclair, it simply sounded like a reunion from childhood to the present. Sinclair noticed nothing amiss.

"Don’t be afraid," Sinclair said, pressing her hand against his chest, his dark, fathomless eyes locking onto hers.

"Do you feel it, sweetheart?"

His deep voice resonated through his chest, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat pulsing unmistakably against her palm.

Camilla tilted her head up at him, unsure of his intent but nodding obediently all the same.

"I can feel it."

"As long as this heart beats for one more day," Sinclair’s deep voice was quiet but firm, his dark eyes gazing at Camilla with an almost reverent intensity.

"I will do everything in my power to ensure Camilla’s happiness."

His hands were stained with blood, his soul steeped in darkness.

Yet Camilla was his only salvation, the sole reason he still felt alive.

Sinclair couldn’t lose her.

Sinclair wouldn’t lose her.

Anyone who dared stand in their way, anyone who threatened her—he would destroy them without hesitation, no matter the cost.

His words, though spoken in that low, slightly rough voice, resonated in Camilla’s heart like a vow carved in stone.

The depth of his love surged through her, wrapping around her like a tide, drowning out everything else.

In this moment, her heart, her eyes, every fiber of her being—could focus on nothing but the man before her.

And Sinclair was no different.

"Sweetheart, I love you."

Unable to hold back, Camilla rose on her toes and pressed her lips to his.

Not with passion, not with desire—just pure, unwavering devotion.

"I love you too, Camilla."

Sinclair’s deep, icy gaze lingered for a moment before his eyes slowly closed.

His large, elegant hand cradled the back of her head, deepening the kiss with an intensity that left no room for retreat—just like the love they shared.

The crisp, masculine scent of him lingered even as the car rolled to a gentle stop.

The driver parked and stood silently by the vehicle, a lesson he had learned well from Assistant Ramsey.

Beside him, the butler of the neo-American-style estate waited patiently.

Sinclair and Camilla adjusted their masks before stepping out of the car.

Even disguised, their innate elegance was impossible to conceal.

To avoid drawing attention, the butler merely gave them a subtle nod and ushered them inside.

Camilla couldn’t hide her surprise as she took in the entirely traditional corridor and décor.

From what she knew, Stephen had been sent to E country as a child due to his exceptional intellect and talent, raised entirely under Western education.

Yet here he was, living in a home steeped in America tradition.

Truly unexpected.

"The decor here is quite unique,

President Mega," Sinclair remarked, his dark eyes narrowing slightly as he noticed the confusion in Camilla’s gaze.

The butler, standing nearby with a warm smile, chimed in gently,

"This was all arranged according to the late madam’s preferences, under the boss’s orders."

As he spoke, a trace of melancholy flickered in his eyes.

It was a pity—the courtyard had been completed, yet Madam never had the chance to live here even for a day before tragedy struck.

That incident remained an irreparable regret in their boss’s heart.

Sinclair gave a slight nod but said nothing more.

Meanwhile, understanding dawned in Camilla’s eyes.

This "old madam" certainly wasn’t referring to the matriarch of the Mega family—it had to be Stephen’s birth mother.

Sweetheart, had told her before.

She had tragically passed away in the accident years ago, the same one that left Stephen paralyzed from the waist down.

And it was after that incident that Stephen had completely severed ties with the Mega family.

"President Luther, Madam Luther," The butler stopped at the inner courtyard gate and gave a respectful nod to Sinclair and Camilla.

"Mr. Mega is waiting inside."

Sinclair acknowledged with a faint hum, guiding Camilla in with a protective hand at her back.

The courtyard was arranged simply yet exuded an understated elegance, clearly designed with thoughtful care.

Beneath a mango tree in full bloom sat Stephen, dressed in a crisp white suit paired with light gray trousers, his hands moving gracefully as he brewed tea.

The aroma of fresh tea filled the air. Hearing their approach, he lifted his gaze, a warm smile spreading across his face as he took in Sinclair and Camilla.

"Perfect timing, Mr. and Mrs. Luther.The tea is just ready."

His tone was easy, as if welcoming old friends.

In American culture, serving tea is the highest form of hospitality—a gesture that spoke volumes.

Camilla’s clear, perceptive eyes narrowed slightly in approval, her impression of Stephen improving by the second.

In her mind, he stood distinctly apart from the rest of the Mega family, including Mega.

A faint smirk played on Sinclair’s lips as he pulled out a chair for Camilla before settling calmly across from Stephen.

"You seem to be in good spirits, Mr. Mega."

"Can’t help it," Stephen poured the freshly brewed tea into pristine white jade cups and handed them to Sinclair and Camilla.

His face, partially obscured by the curling steam, carried a hint of self-deprecation.

"With these broken legs, I can’t go anywhere.

Might as well find some other way to pass the time."

Of course, his love for tea stemmed mostly from his mother.

When she was alive, she had always preferred tea, while he had favored coffee.

After she passed, he longed for tea—but it was no longer the same.

At the thought, a sharp flicker of hatred flashed in Stephen’s downcast eyes, vanishing the moment he lifted his gaze again.

"My skills are rusty.

Please forgive any shortcomings, President Luther, Mrs. Luther."

"The aroma is rich and perfectly balanced," Camilla remarked after taking a sip, smiling warmly.

"You’re too modest, President Mega."

Halfway through the pot, the conversation turned serious.

"President Mega, please roll up your trousers," Camilla said, retrieving an acupuncture kit from her medical bag, her expression turning professional.

"I need to examine your legs." Legs—the one thing Stephen had always dreaded facing.

For years, he had never shown himself to anyone except his doctors and closest caretakers.

Hearing Camilla’s words, he pressed his lips together, paused for a moment, then gave a slow nod before reaching down to roll up the loose fabric of his pants with deliberate calm.

What should have been the firm, muscular legs of a grown man now appeared unnaturally pale and slender, with visible signs of muscle atrophy.

Camilla frowned, pressing her fingers against Stephen’s leg to examine it.

Stephen watched in silence, his face devoid of any expression. 𝒻𝑟ℯℯ𝑤𝑒𝑏𝑛𝘰𝓋𝑒𝓁.𝒸𝑜𝘮

Sinclair, however, furrowed his brow.