My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 219: Greg’s Plan (1)

Ric arrived at the suite with both hands full of take-out boxes, his face flushed from the sun and the rush to get back. He balanced the containers against his chest and knocked lightly on the door.

Cammy opened it before he could call out, her expression unreadable—too still, too quiet.

Ric’s eyes scanned the room immediately, the tension in his shoulders noticeable. "Where’s Greg?"

Cammy stepped aside to let him in and softly closed the door behind them. "He’s out on the balcony," she said. "Taking a call."

Ric nodded slowly, glancing toward the sheer curtains swaying near the sliding doors. Greg’s silhouette stood still against the light, his back turned to them, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the phone loosely to his ear. He looked distant—too still for someone on a real call.

Cammy moved to help Ric set the food on the table. They worked in silence, placing boxes down without much care for the order or arrangement. The weight of everything that had been said earlier still lingered in the air like smoke that refused to dissipate.

Then, quietly, Ric asked, "What did he say? Is he... somehow open to the idea?"

Cammy paused mid-motion, setting down the last container with a soft thud. She looked at him, her brows drawn slightly, eyes searching his for something—fear, hope, regret—anything to give her an anchor.

Cammy sighed and folded the paper bag neatly, her fingers fidgeting at the corners. "I don’t know," she whispered. "He hasn’t really spoken about it since you left."

She sat down slowly, folding her hands in her lap like a child waiting for judgment. "He just said we should wait for you... so we could all talk together."

Ric’s jaw tensed, his gaze drifting again toward the balcony where Greg still stood like a statue carved in heartache.

"So," Ric murmured, his voice low and steady, "it’s going to be that kind of conversation."

Cammy gave a faint nod. "Yeah," she said. "The kind that changes everything."

A hush fell over them again. Outside, Greg ended the call—if it had ever really started at all—and turned toward the glass, watching them from the other side.

His eyes met Cammy’s through the reflection. She held his gaze.

Ric straightened his spine.

It was time.

Everything was about to be laid bare.

The sliding door creaked slightly as Greg stepped in from the balcony, the warm sunlight casting golden edges around him like a fragile halo. His steps were quiet, but his presence filled the room instantly.

"Let’s have lunch first," Greg said, his voice rough and low—like someone who had spent hours holding back a storm. "Then we’ll talk."

Cammy gave a slight nod and moved toward the table without saying a word.

Ric, watching Greg closely, mirrored her. As Greg sat across from them, Ric couldn’t help but notice the puffiness under his eyes, the faint redness that lingered around the edges—telling signs of someone who had cried more than they meant to.

He expected Cammy’s eyes to be swollen. Her emotions had been building for days—months even. But Greg? Greg was always composed. Unshakeable. Seeing him like this made something tighten in Ric’s chest.

Lunch passed mostly in silence, the only sounds were the clinks of utensils and the occasional clatter of a container being shifted.

Cammy barely touched her food.

Ric forced himself to eat, though it tasted like cardboard in his mouth.

Greg, for his part, took slow, mechanical bites, like he needed the routine to keep from falling apart.

When the last container was pushed aside and the quiet became heavier than it was before, Greg leaned back into the sofa and looked at both of them—his eyes tired, but resolute.

"I’ll accept it," he began, voice low but firm. "I’ll accept Ric to be the father of my baby."

Cammy’s head lifted slowly, her lips parting with a soft breath.

Greg’s gaze moved to her, then to Ric. "But—" his voice tightened, "you will not hinder me from being close to my child. Even if it’s only as the ’uncle,’ I will be part of its life." ƒrēewebnoѵёl.cσm

He looked directly at Cammy now, the edge in his tone sharp with emotion. "If I want to take my child on a vacation, or be there for birthdays, school events, anything... you will have no right to stop me."

Cammy’s eyes welled again, but she said nothing, only listened.

"I already talked to Grace," Greg continued. "She’ll draft a written agreement. This won’t be based on promises or vague emotions. It’ll be legal. Clear. Unshakable."

Ric exhaled slowly, rubbing his palms together, absorbing the gravity of Greg’s words.

Cammy finally spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. "I wouldn’t stop you, Greg... I never wanted to. I just didn’t know how to make it all work."

Greg leaned forward, elbows on his knees, his hands clasped tightly together.

"Then let’s find a way," he said, eyes locked on hers. "Because no matter how this plays out... I’m not going to disappear from my child’s life."

A silence settled again—this time not from uncertainty, but from acceptance.

And beneath it all... the subtle shifting of something inevitable.

The past had already broken them.

But maybe the future—however tangled—still had room for love, in all its complicated forms.

As for Cammy," Greg said, turning his gaze toward her with eyes that had softened but still held a flicker of pain, "I have no right to stop her from marrying whoever she wants."

Cammy looked away, unable to hold his stare. The ache in her chest pulsed with every word he spoke.

"If you two want to get married," Greg continued, shifting his attention to Ric, "then so be it. It’s a sacrifice that all three of us are making—for the sake of the baby. And I’m thankful for that."

Ric gave a respectful nod, but the gratitude in Greg’s voice only made the weight on his shoulders feel heavier.

"But..." Greg paused, the word lingering in the room like a held breath.

Cammy slowly lifted her eyes to meet his.

"I have one final request, Cammy," Greg said, his voice trembling now, stripped of all the restraint he had managed to hold onto until that moment. "I want to spend one last day with you."

The room fell utterly silent.

Ric looked away, pressing his lips into a tight line, clearly torn—but choosing not to speak.