Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 218: What a cunning move

Mind Your Manners "Everyone," Grandpa Porter suppressed the cold glint in his eyes, gripping his cane as he surveyed the crowd.

"Due to unforeseen circumstances, tonight’s banquet will conclude early.

My sincerest apologies for the inconvenience and for having you all come all this way."

The guests nodded in understanding, preparing to leave.

They knew better than to linger.

What was about to unfold wasn’t for their eyes. Still, the events of the evening would give them plenty to discuss for days to come.

And just like that—

The grandest engagement banquet between the Luther and Porter families in history came to an abrupt and unprecedented end.

"The party’s over," Vicente remarked, aware that the two families had unfinished business to settle.

"Let’s go."

"No, I’m staying!"

Melissa’s gaze locked onto Camilla, and without hesitation, she started forward.

"You’d better stay out of what’s coming next," Vicente glanced at the Luther and Porter family members before firmly wrapping an arm around Melissa’s waist and steering her toward the exit.

"Otherwise, you’ll only stir up unnecessary trouble for the Taylor family and your brother."

Trouble? Well, that changed things.

Melissa’s resistance faltered at those words, and with a defeated sigh, she let herself be led away.

Camilla caught grandpa Porter’s gaze, her beautiful eyes flickering with understanding.

That look—he clearly had something to say to her.

"Fanny," she turned to Tiffany, her expression softening.

"You should leave first with Calvin."

"No way,"

Tiffany shook her head stubbornly. "With Boss Sinclair not here, I’m staying by your side."

That Sandra woman was bad news, and this her grandfather didn’t seem any better.

She couldn’t bear the thought of leaving Camilla alone in this den of wolves.

"Fanny," Camilla’s voice softened with genuine emotion, knowing Tiffany meant well.

"I’ll be perfectly fine.

" Tiffany shook her head stubbornly, casting a pleading glance toward Calvin.

"Sinclair entrusted me with your safety," Calvin’s almond-shaped eyes narrowed slightly, "If a single hair on your head gets harmed here, he’d have my head on a platter."

His words were measured, deliberate.

"As for Miss Tiffany, she should stay as well."

Tiffany nodded eagerly in agreement.

With no other choice, Camilla acquiesced with a slight nod.

Relief washed over Tiffany, and she shot Calvin a subtle look of gratitude.

The living room, once bustling with guests, now held only the core members of the Luther and Porter families.

The sudden emptiness made the space feel cavernous—and the aftermath of the gathering all the more apparent.

As for Calvin. Since he had no intention of leaving, Grandpa Porter had no choice but to let him be.

The group settled into the chairs in the grand hall. Grandpa Porter took the seat of honor.

Camilla, her beautiful eyes slightly narrowed, sat with an air of calm indifference in a position equal to his—instantly placing everyone else beneath her. Sandra’s expression darkened.

Grandpa Porter frowned faintly but ultimately said nothing.

A barely perceptible smirk tugged at the corner of Calvin’s lips.

Tiffany wore a similar look.

"Camilla," Grandpa Porter began, his voice low and grave as he regarded her.

"This matter concerns the dignity of both families.

What do you think should be done?"

All eyes turned to Camilla.

Among them, Sandra’s icy, resentful glare stood out most sharply.

Tyler kept his head lowered, his expression unreadable.

"Which matter are you referring to, Grandpa Porter?"

Camilla’s captivating eyes narrowed slightly as she glanced between Tyler and Sandra.

"Is it the scandalous video of the Porter family’s daughter, or... the matter of the Luther Family’s bloodline?"

Her words, though spoken lightly, cut through Sandra like the sharpest blade in the world.

Sandra’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing with fury as she glared at Camilla.

"You little bitch! That wasn’t me in the video!

If you dare spread lies—"

Before she could finish, a wine glass suddenly flew through the air and shattered against her forehead.

*Thud!*

The glass struck Sandra’s brow before clattering onto the carpet.

Crimson liquid trickled down her face.

With a piercing shriek, Sandra turned her bloodshot eyes toward Camilla.

"You—"

"I speak on behalf of the Luther Family head," Camilla replied coolly, her red lips parting with deliberate calm.

"Sandra, watch your tone."

Wow, Camilla is so cool!!

Though the timing wasn’t right, Tiffany couldn’t help thinking this way.

Calvin leaned back in his chair with an air of lazy indifference.

Birds of a feather flock together, after all.

That seemingly casual glance weighed heavily on Sandra, stirring an inexplicable fear that made her instinctively avert her eyes.

When she realized what she’d done, she gritted her teeth and forced herself to meet Camilla’s gaze again.

But Camilla had already turned toward Grandpa Porter, her beautiful eyes glinting with frosty amusement.

"Grandpa Porter, what do you think?"

The elderly man studied Camilla intently, his penetrating gaze sharp as a blade.

Having judged countless people in his lifetime, he never expected to misread this young woman.

"Sandra, step back.

You’re not to speak again without my permission."

"But Grandfather—"

Grandpa Porter silenced her by slamming his cane against the floor with a thunderous crack.

"Step aside!"

Sandra flinched, her lips parting as if to speak, but she swallowed her words and retreated to the side.

Mr. Porter’s face was cold and stern, yet a flicker of schadenfreude glinted in his eyes.

In his heart, Sandra had long ceased to be his daughter.

"This engagement banquet was, at its core, an alliance between the Luther and Porter families," Grandpa Porter’s sharp gaze returned to Camilla, his piercing eyes shadowed with unspoken implications. freёweɓnovel.com

"Now that Tyler’s true identity has come into question, the marriage agreement between our families is naturally null and void."

His words were deliberate, his tone leaving no room for argument.

"Given the circumstances, it would be inappropriate for the Porter family to make a public statement.

I believe it’s best for the Luther Family to hold a press conference and clarify the matter."

Tyler’s head snapped up, his bloodshot eyes locking onto grandpa Porter.

Without the Luther Family name, his only lifeline was the Porter.

Though the engagement banquet had ended abruptly, it had still technically taken place.

Was this old fox now trying to cut ties and shift all the blame onto the Luther Family?

What a cunning move.

Camilla’s obsidian-like eyes shimmered with an icy allure that could freeze one’s soul.

"Grandfather Porter must be mistaken," she said, her crimson lips parting deliberately.

"The marriage alliance was always meant for Tyler personally—not the Luther Family."

The old man’s eyes narrowed instantly, his previously amiable expression hardening into stern severity.

Yet Camilla carried on as if oblivious, her next words causing Sandra’s face to pale dramatically.

Meanwhile, hundreds of miles away in the Luther Family villa... Sinclair sat at the dining table, his strikingly handsome face carved from ice.

His dark, narrow eyes were fathomless as midnight, swirling with an abyssal chill.

Gerald and several other mercenaries stood rigidly nearby, hands clasped behind their backs, their expressions grim.

Across the table, Yoland lounged with calculated ease.

"What are you waiting for?" he snapped.

"Pour the wine for Mr. Sinclair!"

"Yes, sir!"

An assistant, catching Yoland’s pointed glance, hurried to comply.

He stepped behind Sinclair and filled his glass to the brim.

Sinclair lifted the glass, swirling the liquid with deliberate slowness.

Watching the crimson wine catch the light, his lips curved into a faint, razor-edged smile.

"The wine is excellent."

"I’m glad it meets your approval," Yoland said, carefully raising his glass with both hands in a gesture of respect.

"To your health."

Sinclair studied Yoland intently, making no immediate move to return the toast.

"Your son—he comes of age this year?"