My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 182: Worst Nightmare

Dylan and Cammy practically skipped—well, one of them did—into the hospital, buzzing with excitement. Today was the day!

The day Dylan would finally be freed from the clutches of that bulky, soul-sucking wheelchair he absolutely despised. Crutches were on the horizon, and with them, a ticket back to school—though, for now, he’d still have to head home early until his orthopedic cast was off.

Baby steps... literally.

As they entered the exam room, the doctor greeted them with a knowing smile. "Well, well, Dylan! You’re looking suspiciously cheerful today."

Dylan grinned so wide it looked like his face might get stuck that way. "Of course, Doc! Last time you said that when I saw you again, you’d let me stand and use crutches!"

The doctor chuckled and gave Dylan’s hair a ruffle, like some wise old wizard bestowing a blessing. "Ah, yes. I did say that. But do you remember what I said right after?"

Dylan’s megawatt smile flickered, then fizzled out like a balloon losing air. He slumped dramatically. "Yes, doctor. You also said... if my fibula was healing well, then I could use crutches."

The doctor gave an approving nod. "Impressive! You even remembered the fancy bone name. Looks like school hasn’t completely left your brain." He winked.

"Well then, let’s get that leg of yours under the X-ray machine and see if it’s ready to graduate from Wheelchair Academy!"

With that, he gestured for Cammy, Dylan, and their ever-dutiful nanny to follow him. The trio nodded eagerly, ready for what they hoped would be Dylan’s grand re-entry into the walking world.

Dylan sat on the X-ray table, wiggling his fingers anxiously as the machine hummed to life. Cammy stood beside him, hands clasped together like she was about to witness the grand finale of a magic trick.

A few minutes later, the doctor returned, holding the fresh X-ray film like it was the results of a reality show finale. He placed it on the lightboard, squinting dramatically before breaking into a grin.

"Well, well, look at that!" he said, pointing at the image. "Dylan, my friend, your fibula is healing beautifully! Stronger than ever. Almost like it took a crash course in bone repair."

Dylan gasped, eyes wide with anticipation. "So... does that mean...?"

The doctor smirked and crossed his arms. "That means you, my young, impatient patient, are officially cleared to ditch the wheelchair and start using crutches!"

"YES!" Dylan fist-pumped the air so hard he almost lost his balance. "I am free! Sweet, sweet freedom!"

Cammy clapped excitedly. "Finally! No more wheelchair racing in the hallway!"

"Hey, those were training exercises," Dylan said with mock seriousness. "That made the muscles in my arms stronger." He then flexed his arms as if his muscles really grew.

The doctor chuckled. "Alright, alright. Let’s get you fitted for some crutches and go over the rules—because while you can walk now, that does not mean you get to start breakdancing or trying to jump stairs."

Dylan gasped again. "You read my mind, doctor! But I wouldn’t do that. I don’t want my mom to get worried. She will cry again."

The doctor raised an eyebrow. "I have seen far too many kids like you, trust me."

Within minutes, Dylan had his brand-new crutches, adjusting to the feel of them as he took his first wobbly steps. He wiggled his toes dramatically, as if they’d been released from a lifelong prison.

"Look at me! I’m standing! I’m walking!" He turned to Cammy with a proud grin. "I am once again taller than you," he quipped as he raised one of the crutches.

Cammy rolled her eyes. "For now."

Their nanny sighed with relief, the doctor gave Dylan a final pat on the shoulder, and just like that, the next Chapter of Dylan’s recovery began—on two feet instead of four wheels.

Cammy bent down slightly, leveling her gaze with Dylan’s, her expression soft yet knowing. "Now that you can walk again," she murmured, her voice gentle but covered with something unspoken, "and since we’re already here at the hospital... do you want to visit your dad?"

Dylan’s eyes lit up instantly, his entire face transforming with excitement. "Yes! Yes, I do!" he said, nodding so fast it was a wonder he didn’t topple over. "I want to show him that I can walk! And... I want to see if he’s getting better too—just like me."

Cammy straightened, her hand resting briefly on his shoulder, grounding both him and herself. "Alright then," she said with a small smile, "let’s go."

But before she could even finish her sentence, Dylan was already on the move, gripping his crutches with fierce determination as he made a beeline for the elevator, his nanny hurrying to keep up.

Cammy exhaled, slow and deep, her fingers curling into fists at her sides. ’Control yourself, Cammy. The warning echoed in her head like a mantra. You are here for Dylan. Not for yourself. Not to pick a fight. Not to argue with Duncan about the conservatorship.’

But the mere thought of facing Duncan—his cold, calculated presence, the sharp edge of every conversation—made her pulse quicken.

She closed her eyes for a brief second, steeling herself.

This was about Dylan.

Not about the war still simmering beneath the surface.

And yet, as she stepped into the elevator, she couldn’t shake the feeling that today was going to test every ounce of patience she had left.

Dylan could barely contain his excitement as the elevator doors slid open. He maneuvered his crutches with newfound confidence, his movements quick and eager as he made his way down the hallway. Cammy was about to call out for him to slow down, but before she could get a word in—

He was already at the door.

And without a second thought, without knocking—

Dylan pushed it open.

The moment his eyes landed on the scene inside, he froze. His breath hitched. His hands tightened around the crutches.

Then, his expression shattered.

"Daddy!" His voice cracked, raw and filled with disbelief. "Why?!"

Silence.

Thick. Suffocating.

Dylan’s entire body trembled, his face twisting in a mixture of heartbreak and fury. "I hate you!" he screamed, his voice echoing off the sterile hospital walls. "You are not my Daddy anymore!"

And before anyone inside the room could react—before Cammy could even step forward—Dylan turned and bolted, moving faster than anyone thought possible with crutches.

His nanny gasped. "Dylan!"

Cammy’s heart slammed against her ribs. Something was wrong. Something was very wrong.

"Go after him!" she ordered the nanny, her voice sharper than intended. "Now!"

The nanny hesitated only for a second before dashing after Dylan, disappearing down the hall.

Cammy swallowed hard, her pulse hammering in her ears as she turned back toward Duncan’s room. Her fingers curled around the doorframe, hesitating just a moment before she slowly leaned forward—

And looked inside.

Her breath caught in her throat.

Her entire body went cold.

What she saw made her stomach twist, made her blood turn to ice.

And in that moment, Cammy’s worst nightmare had come to life.

Cammy didn’t need a second glance to understand what Dylan had just witnessed. The image burned into his young mind was now seared into hers as well—Duncan, sitting comfortably on the sofa, and Annie, draped across his lap, her arms coiled possessively around his neck.

Her stomach turned.

’So this was it.’ This was what her son had seen. This was the betrayal that shattered him in an instant.

The self-control she had spent all morning trying to summon? Gone.

Something inside her snapped.

Before either Duncan or Annie could react, Cammy stormed into the room, her footsteps sharp and deliberate, a thunderstorm in motion.

Both of them shot to their feet, expressions shifting from shock to something else—guilt? Panic? Did they even have the audacity to feel ashamed?

They didn’t have time to say a word.

Her hand struck Annie’s face first, the sound of the slap cracking through the room like a gunshot.

Before Duncan could react, she turned on him—her palm connecting with his cheek in one swift, vicious motion.

Both of them stood there, stunned, hands hovering near their faces as if trying to process what had just happened.

"You fucking asshole, Duncan!" Cammy’s voice trembled with rage, her body vibrating with the sheer force of her fury. "I texted you. I warned you we were coming today! You knew Dylan could walk through that door at any moment!"

Duncan clenched his jaw, but she didn’t give him a chance to speak.

"We agreed—agreed—to tell him about our separation together, when the time was right. But no, your perverted, selfish ass couldn’t even wait a few hours!" Her chest rose and fell erratically, her breath coming in sharp bursts.

"Did you want him to find out like this? Did you want to destroy the image of his father in his head forever?" ƒreewebɳovel.com

Duncan’s eyes darkened. "Do you think I wanted this?!" he shot back, his voice rough with frustration.

Cammy let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. "I don’t care what you wanted anymore." Her voice dropped to something almost lethal.

"I was doing everything I could to keep you looking like a decent father in Dylan’s eyes—to protect him from the damage this would cause." Her voice cracked, but she pushed through it. "And I did it for him, Duncan. Not for you. Never for you."

She didn’t wait for a response.

Didn’t care to hear whatever pathetic excuse would come next.

Spinning on her heel, she stormed out of the room, her only thought now on Dylan. He needed her.

And after what he had just seen, he needed her more than ever.