My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 207: Hollow

It was time.

Cammy stood in front of the reception desk of the DNA Testing Facility of Arlon Medical Center. Her hands were cold and trembling as the nurse handed her the envelope.

The moment it touched her fingers, the world seemed to still. The fluorescent lights above buzzed faintly, the air suddenly too thick to breathe.

She didn’t open it right away. She walked down the hall, her steps unsteady, finding a quiet corner near the stairwell.

With Ric a few steps behind her, watching silently, she peeled the envelope open, pulling out the crisp white paper that held her fate.

And then she saw it.

*********

CHILD: Camilla Watson

Alleged FATHER: Richard Cross

Interpretation:

Combined Paternity Index: 661,085

Probability of Paternity: 99.9998%

The alleged father is not excluded as the biological father of the tested child. Based on testing results obtained from analyses of the DNA loci listed, the probability of paternity is 99.9998%.

*********

Cammy stared at the words. Her vision blurred. Her chest tightened. She read it again and again, the ink burning into her mind.

Even though Monica had revealed the truth about Richard the night before, a fragile sliver of hope still clung to Cammy’s heart—that maybe, just maybe, her mother had been wrong.

But that hope is gone. A sob caught in her throat.

Slowly, she leaned back against the wall, sliding down slightly as her knees weakened. She clutched the paper to her chest like it was a part of her heart being ripped out and pressed against her.

Then she broke.

A strangled cry escaped her lips as the tears came fast and uncontrollably, wracking her whole body. Her sobs echoed off the sterile hospital walls.

Ric rushed forward, kneeling beside her, his arms gently wrapping around her shaking frame. "Cammy, hey, hey—breathe. Please, you have to breathe. It’s okay. I’m here," he whispered, trying to soothe her, trying to anchor her.

But she couldn’t hear him through the storm inside her. Her breaths came in quick, shallow gasps—panic tightening around her throat like a noose. Her hands went limp.

And then everything went black.

"Cammy!" Ric shouted, catching her just as she collapsed into him.

He scooped her up in his arms without hesitation and rushed down the hall, shouting for help. The staff responded immediately, wheeling a stretcher as Ric laid her down. "She fainted—she was overwhelmed—she hasn’t eaten properly, she’s pale, and she just got... devastating news."

They wheeled her into the emergency room while Ric followed close behind, anxiety etched across his face.

Within minutes, they inserted an IV to stabilize her. Fluids dripped steadily as a nurse monitored her vitals. "Her pulse is elevated. BP low. We need to keep her under observation."

After what felt like hours—but was really just under thirty minutes—Cammy stirred. Her eyelids fluttered open, disoriented.

"Where... where am I?" she whispered hoarsely.

Ric immediately leaned in, relief flooding his features. "You’re in the hospital. You fainted. I brought you here."

Cammy’s eyes darted to the IV in her arm. Her body tensed. "I need to go."

"No—wait—Cammy—"

She pulled at the tape and yanked the needle out, ignoring Ric’s startled protest. The nurses rushed over, followed by the on-duty emergency room doctor.

"Miss, please stop—your vitals are unstable. We still need to run tests. You’re severely pale and your heartbeat is faster than normal."

"There’s no need for more tests," she whispered. Her voice was hollow, almost lifeless. "I already know what’s wrong with me."

Before anyone could stop her, she was off the bed and stumbling toward the exit. Ric caught up to her just outside the ER doors, grabbing her gently by the arm.

"Cammy, wait—where are you going?"

She looked up at him, eyes glassy, cheeks streaked with tears. "I just want to go home... and rest," she whispered. "Please, Ric. Just take me home."

He saw it—the grief, the exhaustion, the crushing weight of truth.

Without another word, he nodded.

He would take her home.

Even if she was broken.

Even if she didn’t know how to piece herself back together again.

"Alright," Ric said, his voice painted with concern as his eyes scanned the hallway, searching for a place—any place—where Cammy could rest for a moment.

She was swaying slightly on her feet, her face pale, her body still trembling from the storm she’d just endured.

Finally, he spotted a bench tucked beside the emergency room’s sliding glass doors. Without hesitation, he gently guided her toward it, his hand warm and steady on her back.

"Sit here," he said softly but firmly, lowering her down with care. "Just stay put. I need to settle the bill. I won’t be long, alright?"

Cammy nodded wordlessly. Her limbs felt heavy, her body foreign. She obeyed like a ghost—numb and dazed—and watched as Ric strode over to the nurse’s station, speaking quickly.

The nurse pointed him toward the cashier window, and he followed, glancing back at her once to make sure she hadn’t collapsed again.

Alone now, Cammy sat in silence, the cold metal of the bench pressing against her spine.

Her hands trembled as she reached for her abdomen, instinctively placing her palm over her stomach. A soft, almost unconscious motion—rubbed in slow circles, as if trying to comfort herself from the inside out.

She was hungry. Hollow. Dizzy. A gnawing emptiness churned inside her, both physical and emotional.

’How could I feel hunger in a moment like this?’ she thought bitterly. But the body didn’t understand heartbreak. It just kept needing. ’Yeah, of course, I’ll be hungry even in times like this, what am I thinking?’

She leaned forward slightly, elbows on her knees, head bowed.

"I need to calm myself," she whispered under her breath, as if saying it out loud might make it true. "I can’t go home like this..."

Her voice cracked.

"...Not with Dylan looking up at me, not with my father waiting. I have to keep it together."

But the truth was, she was crumbling inside.

And no one—not even Ric—could see the full extent of what that one piece of paper had shattered.

It was more than just the result in the paper, something more serious and heavier.