My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 212: Safe Keeping

Cammy didn’t flinch. Didn’t blink. She sat still as stone, but a single tear broke loose and slid down her cheek, trailing silently across her pale skin. Her voice came out in a near-whisper, brittle but crystal clear—piercing through the heavy silence like glass shattering on concrete.

"I took the samples myself, Greg," she said, her voice trembling with exhaustion. "Except for Richard’s swab... but the hair—his hair—he plucked it in front of me.

I saw him drop it into the container with my own eyes." Her voice broke. "The result said 99.9998%. What else is there to question?"

Her lips quivered as she wiped away the fresh flood of tears, trying—failing—to steady herself. "I’m tired," she said softly, turning to Ric, her eyes hollow and pleading. "Please... can we call it a night? I just want to go home. I want to be with Dylan... and my Dad. Just for tonight."

Ric gave her a gentle nod, already reaching for the car keys when Monica suddenly stepped forward, placing a firm hand on his arm.

"Ric," she said quietly, "I think you should go with Greg. He needs someone to be with him tonight. Cammy and I can take a cab."

Her words didn’t leave room for argument, and none came. The weight of the night had drained everyone into wordless surrender.

But as Cammy stepped out of the car, her knees a little shaky beneath her, Greg reached out, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. His touch was feather-light, hesitant—like he was afraid she might shatter under him.

"Cammy..." his voice cracked. "Please... just talk to me. Just for a minute."

She turned, giving him the faintest, saddest smile, and laid her hand softly over his. Her eyes met his, tired and glistening. "We will talk, Greg. I promise. But not tonight... I can’t." She took a deep breath, swallowing back another wave of emotion.

"I need to rest. I need to think. And you... you should too. Let’s both take tonight to breathe. To hold onto what we’ve learned... but please," her voice dropped, fragile, "don’t tell anyone. Not yet."

Greg didn’t speak. He just nodded, his jaw tight, eyes red. And he let her go.

Cammy turned and walked away with Monica by her side.

He watched them retreat slowly under the flickering streetlight, toward the hospital’s front entrance, where the soft glow of the taxi stand waited for them—like the only bit of mercy left in the night.

As the silhouettes of Cammy and Monica disappeared into the night, the silence that lingered between the two men grew suffocating.

Ric exhaled deeply, the weight of everything finally pressing on his chest like an avalanche. He ran a hand through his hair, glanced at Greg, and spoke softly—but firmly.

"Where are you staying?" Ric asked, his voice low. "Let me take you there."

Greg let out a dry, tired laugh. "Nowhere yet," he muttered, eyes still fixed on the spot where Cammy had stood seconds ago. "I came straight to the penthouse after landing in Arlon. You can just drop me off at any hotel you think is decent." ƒreewebɳovel.com

Ric nodded once. "Alright then. Hop in," he said, making his way back to the car and sliding behind the wheel.

The ride was quiet at first—too quiet. The only sound was the soft hum of the engine and the occasional rustle of the city breathing around them. When they finally pulled up to the grand awning of a five-star hotel near the penthouse, Greg instinctively reached for the door handle—only to pause when Ric drove right past the main entrance and veered toward the valet service.

Greg frowned, brows furrowing. "What are you doing?" he asked, puzzled.

Ric parked and cut the engine, turning toward him with a look that was both weary and knowing.

"I figured..." Ric began, voice marked with something deeper, heavier.

"A man who just found out the woman he loves is possibly his half-sister, and who got punched in the gut by the truth he wasn’t ready to hear... probably doesn’t want to be alone tonight."

Greg’s shoulders slumped. His jaw clenched, but his eyes—haunted and red-rimmed—betrayed him.

Ric opened the door and stepped out, tossing the keys to the valet without waiting for a reply. "I know you will drink, Greg. As what I would do if that happens to me. Let me be your drinking buddy. I’ll have a drink too. Or maybe ten. And someone needs to make sure you don’t punch a wall again."

Greg sat still for a moment, fighting the storm inside. Then finally, he nodded, slowly opening his door. "Yeah," he said with a hollow breath. "Yeah, maybe I do."

And together, the two men disappeared through the revolving doors of the hotel—carrying the weight of heartbreak, secrets, and the night that changed everything.

Inside the grand lounge of the hotel, soft jazz music floated in the air, and the dim amber lights cast long shadows across the marble floors.

Ric and Greg sat in a quiet corner of the bar, tucked away from the other guests. A row of empty glasses lined the table in front of them, and the bartender had long stopped raising an eyebrow at their pace.

Greg was slouched back in his chair, tie loosened, eyes unfocused. The alcohol had taken its hold—flushing his cheeks, making his words slurred and his movements sloppy.

"I loved her," Greg muttered, more to himself than to Ric. "Still do. Every damn second. And now I have to unlove her? Just like that?" He let out a hollow laugh that died before it even began. "It’s not like flipping a switch."

Ric gave a soft nod, eyes filled with sympathy, though there was a flicker of something unreadable behind them. He kept his glass untouched after the second round, silently knowing that one of them needed to stay grounded.

"I know, man. I know it hurts," Ric said. "But right now, you need sleep more than another drink."

Greg waved his hand lazily. "Sleep... dreams are worse. At least when I’m awake, I get to pretend she’s just mad at me for something stupid. Not... forbidden."

His voice cracked, and Ric’s throat tightened.

"Come on," Ric said gently, standing up. "Let’s get you upstairs."