My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 221: Greg’s Plan (3)

"Can I come, Mommy? Please? Please? Please!" Dylan’s small voice cracked with desperation as he stood on the cold floor, his wide, pleading eyes following Cammy’s every move while she stood in front of the mirror, dabbing on the last touches of her makeup.

Cammy paused, her hand trembling slightly as she reached for her lipstick. She glanced at her son through the reflection.

His messy hair, his little pajamas, the heartbreak etched in his furrowed brows. Her chest tightened.

"No, sweetheart. You can’t come," she said gently but firmly, trying to steady the emotion rising in her throat. "Besides, it’s your last day here. You should spend it with Grandpa, okay?"

Dylan’s shoulders slumped. He clenched his tiny fists at his sides, a storm of confusion swirling in his eyes. "But Uncle Greg will be there. Why can’t I go too?"

Cammy turned to face him, forcing a smile that didn’t reach her eyes. She knelt down and softly pinched his cheek, as if the touch could soothe the sting of rejection.

"Because we’re going somewhere important," she said, her tone half-playful, half-apologetic. "And kids aren’t allowed there."

"Is it because of work?" Dylan asked, his voice barely above a whisper—hope clinging to each syllable.

Cammy let out a soft chuckle, but her heart was breaking. He always blamed "work" when he didn’t understand why adults kept secrets. And today, she didn’t have the strength to give him the truth.

"Yes, honey. It’s because of work," she lied, brushing a kiss against his forehead. "So I need you to be a big boy today, alright? Look after Grandpa and Grandma while I’m gone."

Dylan nodded solemnly, but the smile he forced onto his lips nearly shattered her.

He trailed behind her as she walked out of the room, every step heavier than the last. In the living room, Monica stood near the door, tension carved into every line of her face.

Peter sat silently in his wheelchair, watching Cammy like he could sense something wasn’t right.

"Are you sure this is the best way to approach this?" Monica asked in a hushed tone, her words careful, her eyes flicking toward Peter to make sure he didn’t catch the meaning behind them.

Cammy’s gaze locked with her mother’s. Her jaw tightened. "Yes, Mom. I have to go," she replied, masking her fear with a calm smile. "It’s my responsibility. My boss needs me."

She leaned down, pressing a kiss to Peter’s head, then wrapped Dylan in one last embrace. "I’m sorry, Daddy. I really need to work today, but I’ll make it up to you, okay? Both of you behave for Grandma, alright?"

Peter nodded absently, lost in his own world. Dylan clung to her for a moment longer than usual.

Cammy embraced Monica tightly, her fingers digging into her mother’s back like she didn’t want to let go. Then, without another word, she grabbed the car keys from the table and walked toward the elevator.

She didn’t look back.

Because if she did, she might never leave.

**********

Cammy’s heart pounded as she pulled up in front of the hotel. The early morning light was still soft, painting golden streaks across the pavement, but inside her, everything was knotted and uncertain.

The moment she saw Greg standing there, waiting, a wave of something unspoken washed over her.

He was leaning against a column, one hand tucked in his pocket, the other gripping the strap of a worn leather backpack slung over his shoulder.

When her car rolled to a stop, he straightened, eyes locking with hers like he’d been waiting not just minutes, but years.

Without a word, Greg strode toward the driver’s side.

Cammy rolled down the window, but he didn’t waste time. He opened the door, his voice quiet but firm.

"I’ll drive. Transfer to the passenger seat."

There was no hesitation in his tone, and strangely, Cammy didn’t feel the need to argue. She simply obeyed, stepping out into the soft morning breeze and walking around the car, her heels clicking faintly on the pavement.

As she slid into the passenger seat, the familiar scent of him—clean, masculine, comforting—greeted her like an old memory she hadn’t dared to miss.

Greg settled in behind the wheel, adjusted the mirror with a flick, and started the engine.

They drove in silence for a moment, the city slowly falling away behind them, replaced by long roads flanked by trees and the ever-present hum of the unknown.

Cammy turned her head slightly, watching him from the corner of her eye. "Where are we going?"

Greg didn’t look at her, but his lips curved into the faintest smile—wistful, maybe even nervous.

"I rented a villa," he said. "By the sea. Just for today... and tonight. We’ll be back early tomorrow, like I promised."

Cammy’s breath caught in her throat. Her eyes searched his face, but he kept his gaze on the road.

His hands gripped the steering wheel a little tighter than necessary, as though the weight of his own words had just settled on him, too.

"A villa?" she echoed, her voice barely audible, like saying it too loud would make it too real.

He finally glanced at her, briefly. "Yeah. I thought... we could use a day away. No distractions. No obligations. Just—" He stopped himself, jaw tightening. "Just us."

Cammy turned her face to the window, watching the landscape blur past. Her pulse quickened. The tension between them was thick—unspoken, fragile, and heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

The road stretched out ahead of them, long and winding, leading to something inevitable.

And neither of them dared to turn back.

As they neared the coast, Cammy could already taste the salt in the air, feel the shift in atmosphere—the world growing quieter, slower... more intimate.

But nothing could have prepared her for what she saw as Greg pulled into the stone driveway of the villa.

It was breathtaking.

A modern structure nestled against the cliffside, its white walls glowing under the late morning sun. Wide glass panels revealed glimpses of an infinity pool that seemed to spill into the sea beyond. Palm trees swayed lazily in the breeze, and the air smelled of salt and citrus.

Cammy’s lips parted, about to say something, when she noticed movement beyond the glass.

Her breath hitched.

There were people inside. ƒree𝑤ebnσvel.com

As Greg parked the car and cut the engine, Cammy leaned forward, eyes narrowing in disbelief.

"Greg..." she began slowly, her voice sharp with suspicion. "Is someone else here?"

Greg didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he exhaled through his nose and grabbed his backpack from the back seat. "Just come inside. Please."

Cammy stepped out, her heels crunching against the gravel. Every step toward the villa made her chest tighter, like something was coiling inside her.

The door opened before she could reach for it.

"Cammy!" came the familiar voice—light, cheerful, and completely unexpected.

Eve.

And behind her—Harry, leaning casually against the doorframe with a drink in hand, his expression unreadable.

Then came Ethan, nodding politely, and Ellie, her gaze flitting from Cammy to Greg with razor-sharp curiosity.

She scanned the villa further and saw Grace with an old man chatting just outside the glass door that leads to the beach.

Cammy froze on the spot. Her mouth opened, then closed. She turned to Greg, eyes blazing.

"What is this?" she whispered, her voice trembling with disbelief. "You said it would just be us."

Greg didn’t meet her eyes.

And before she could demand answers—before she could turn and walk away—Greg stepped forward, holding something in his hand.

Something small. A small velvet box.