My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 231: It Was All An Act

The next morning, Cammy stirred beneath the soft sheets, her limbs tangled in the warm mess of blankets and leftover passion. Her eyes slowly fluttered open, and a smile stretched across her lips even before her gaze landed on the man standing near the window—shirtless, sun-kissed, and holding a tray.

The smell hit her first—rich, dark coffee and the sweet, buttery scent of cinnamon rolls fresh from the oven.

She blinked, sitting up slowly as Greg turned toward her, the softest smile on his face.

"Morning, beautiful," he said, walking over with the tray in hand.

Cammy let out a small laugh. "You’re trying to seduce me all over again, aren’t you?"

He smirked, setting the tray on her lap. "Wouldn’t call it trying." He leaned down to brush a soft kiss on her forehead. "Eat, babe. You’re going to need energy later."

She giggled, then sighed dreamily as she bit into the warm roll, letting the cinnamon melt on her tongue. "Mmm... this is heaven. Can we just stay here all day? Forget everything else?"

Greg leaned back on his elbows beside her, looking at her with that gaze that made her feel like the center of his universe.

"I’d love nothing more..." He paused, a faint shift in his expression. "But Grace called. There’s a meeting tonight. Dinner. It’s about your case with Duncan."

Cammy groaned dramatically, placing a hand over her heart. "Way to kill the vibe, babe."

He chuckled. "I know. I wish we had more time, too."

After breakfast, Greg helped her dress with lingering touches and whispered kisses, making it harder and harder for her to even think about leaving. But soon enough, they were packed and ready.

The sun was high when Greg pulled into the underground parking of Cammy’s parents’ penthouse. The air was cooler down there, the quiet hum of the city above softened by the thick concrete walls.

As Greg pulled into the slot next to Monica’s usual space, Cammy’s eyes narrowed when she noticed someone already waiting beside a sleek black car.

Ric.

He was leaning against his car door, arms crossed, one ankle resting over the other. His expression was unreadable until he noticed them.

"Hey," Ric said as Greg and Cammy stepped out of the car. "Was wondering when you two would show up."

Greg nodded at him.

Ric pushed off the car, hands casually sliding into his pockets. "Just so you know, I’m heading back to Dalton with Cammy and Dylan later."

Greg raised a brow. "What time’s your flight?"

Ric blinked. "Two-thirty. You?"

Greg smirked. "Same."

Cammy looked between the two men, feeling a strange pull in her chest—like time was suddenly moving too fast.

Greg stepped toward her, his hands slipping around her waist, pulling her in for one last embrace.

"I’ll see you later," he murmured against her hair.

But she clung tighter, burying her face into his chest. "I don’t want to say goodbye yet..."

Greg closed his eyes for a beat, holding her tighter before gently pulling back, his hands cupping her cheeks.

"I don’t either," he said softly. "But you have to go up, and I have to go."

She didn’t move.

So he kissed her—slow, lingering, final—and then turned to Ric with a quiet, almost apologetic nod.

"Take her up for me?"

Ric gave a short nod. "Yeah. I got her."

Cammy watched as Greg stepped back, his eyes never leaving hers.

And then he was gone.

Just like that.

Leaving her standing there in the quiet, with Ric beside her, and her heart aching for a little more time.

Cammy stood there for a moment in silence, staring at the now-empty spot where Greg’s car had been. She blinked once, and a single tear slipped down her cheek. She quickly wiped it away, inhaling sharply as she squared her shoulders.

’Not now. Not here,’ she said to herself.

She had to hold herself together. For her family. For Dylan. For everything she still had to face.

Ric walked beside her without a word as they entered the elevator. The soft chime of the elevator echoed as they stepped inside, the air between them heavy with unspoken thoughts.

Cammy leaned back against the cool mirrored wall, her arms crossed tightly over her chest.

"You’re quiet," Ric finally said, his voice low. "What are you thinking?"

Cammy’s gaze stayed fixed on the ascending numbers.

"Grace called for a meeting tonight... once we’re all back in Dalton," she said, her voice composed but weary. "It’s about my case against Duncan. She might already have the results of the divorce and custody case."

"I see," Ric replied, glancing at her, but offering no judgment—only patience.

Cammy turned her head, finally meeting his eyes. "I also texted Richard. Told him I’ll meet him tomorrow for the DNA test result."

Ric gave a slight nod, waiting for her to continue.

She did.

"Greg and I... we talked. About how we’re going to tell Richard about our relationship." Her voice wavered ever so slightly before she steadied it. "We agreed to use the contract we made before... the one that was created to form an alliance to take down Duncan and Annie."

Ric raised an eyebrow. "You think he’ll buy that?"

She gave a soft, bitter laugh. "It’s signed. Documented. That’s the only way we can make it look like it was all an act. That it was never real."

"And then?"

Cammy took a deep breath, her voice quieter now. "Then I can introduce you as my real boyfriend. And you can ask him for my hand... so we can get married."

The elevator chimed softly as it reached the top floor. The doors began to open.

Ric didn’t move. He just stared at her.

Cammy turned to step out, but before she could, Ric’s hand gently caught her wrist.

"Cammy..." he said, eyes dark with something unreadable. "Are you sure... You still can lie like that?"

She froze.

Her breath caught somewhere between her lungs and her throat.

Before she could respond, a voice echoed from down the hall.

"Cammy? Is that you?" It was her mother’s voice, echoing faintly.

Cammy swallowed hard, then slowly stepped out of the elevator, forcing a smile onto her face.

But inside her chest, her heart thundered—loud, erratic, and uncertain.

Because Ric’s question wasn’t just a question.

It was a warning.

And she didn’t have the answer yet.

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