Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 232: The end of Sandra Porter

"You little bitch!"

Sandra lunged at Camilla, her bloodshot eyes burning with frenzied hatred.

"I’ll kill you!!"

Mr. Porter’s pupils constricted in shock at her sudden outburst.

If anything happened to Camilla in front of him, the Luther Family would never let it slide.

The thought alone propelled him forward, desperate to intervene.

"Sandra, stop this—!"

His phone slipped from his pocket, unnoticed in the chaos.

Yet, compared to Mr. Porter’s panic, Camilla—the target of the attack—stood eerily composed.

"Honestly," she murmured, watching Sandra with a chilling smile that didn’t reach her icy eyes.

"Even now, you’re still as stupid as ever."

Before Sandra could process the insult, two gunshots cracked through the air.

**"Bang."**

"Bang."

Sandra’s knees were instantly shattered by bullets, sending her crashing uncontrollably to the ground.

With a heavy thud, she collapsed onto her knees before Camilla.

Camilla gazed down at her, her expression icy and detached.

"Ahhh—!!!"

A piercing, agonized scream tore through the empty warehouse, echoing hauntingly in the vast space.

Everything had happened in the blink of an eye.

Mr. Porter and the Porter family bodyguards stood frozen in shock.

But it wasn’t over yet.

Ramsey, his face cold and unyielding, holstered his gun and strode toward Sandra, who lay curled on the ground.

Without hesitation, he delivered a brutal kick.

"Crunch—"

The sickening sound of snapping bone filled the air as Sandra’s body was sent flying backward.

She slammed into a nearby blue metal barrel with a deafening crash before finally coming to a stop.

The excruciating pain wracked her entire body, her vision flickering in and out of darkness.

She couldn’t even muster a scream. Her fingers clawed desperately at the ground, nails splitting and breaking.

Bright red blood dripped from her nose and mouth, splattering onto the floor like grotesque crimson blossoms.

Horrifying.

Absolutely horrifying.

Sinclair’s men were indeed as ruthless as their master.

Mr. Porter was utterly terrified by Ramsey’s brutal efficiency, to the point where he could hardly bear to watch any longer.

"Madam Luther," he said, deliberately avoiding looking at Sandra,

"I’ll leave her to you."

He took two steps toward Camilla, his voice strained.

"My task here is done. I’ll take my leave now."

With that, he turned to go. Just then, Camilla’s voice—soft yet icy—cut through the air.

"Wait."

Mr. Porter stiffened mid-step before slowly turning back to face her.

Camilla tilted her head slightly, a faint, chilling smile playing on her lips.

"Since you were the one who brought her here," she said coolly, "it’s only fitting that you handle the matter yourself."

Death at the hands of her own father would be far more agonizing for Sandra than anything Camilla could do.

After all, the sharpest blade always strikes where it hurts the most. Let him handle it?

Mr. Porter’s heart gave a violent jolt.

She was asking him...to personally kill Sandra?!

"Madam Luther," Mr. Porter glanced at Sandra who had just lifted her head to look at him, his face twisting into an expression of conflict.

"You never mentioned this condition initially."

No matter how much he despised her, Sandra was still his own flesh and blood. He couldn’t quite bring himself to do it.

"It’s never too late to amend our agreement," Camilla narrowed her beautiful eyes, a cryptic smile playing on her stunning features.

"After it’s done, I’ll add another tier to the benefits I previously promised you."

An additional tier?

That would translate into an astronomical sum!

Mr. Porter pressed his lips together, his gloomy eyes lowering as he visibly began calculating.

The entire warehouse fell into dead silence.

The terror of impending death completely enveloped Sandra. She knew all too well.

As long as Camilla offered tempting enough terms, Mr. Porter would undoubtedly agree.

The only way she could survive was to appeal to his mercy before he gave his final nod.

"Mr. Porter...

Dad," Sandra forced the words through gritted teeth, her entire body wracked with pain, veins bulging on her forehead.

"Don’t forget the Porter family rules.

If you harm your own flesh and blood...

Grandfather will... will kill you for it."

Her bloodshot eyes locked onto Mr. Porter, brimming with desperation.

"Please, let me go... My legs are already ruined. I’ll never be able to compete with you for the position of Porter family head again.

I’m begging you..." Mr. Porter’s gaze lingered on the bullet wounds in Sandra’s knees, his expression faltering for a moment, hesitation flickering in his eyes.

Camilla observed his reaction with her calm, penetrating gaze, the corners of her lips curling slightly.

"Two shares."

For a man like Mr. Porter, sentiment would always lose to profit.

That much was clear—after all, he had personally delivered Sandra into her hands.

Two shares?

The hesitation in Mr. Porter’s eyes vanished instantly, replaced by a flash of greed.

His face hardened into a cold, calculating mask. Things had escalated to this point.

Even if he were willing to let Sandra go, there was no guarantee she wouldn’t come after him once she was free.

In that case, he might as well go all the way.

A flicker of guilt flashed in Mr. Porter’s eyes as he glanced at Sandra, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared.

His gaze then shifted to Camilla.

"Madam Camilla, how would you like her to die?"

Ah, the price of family love—always negotiable.

The two Porter family bodyguards exchanged a glance, their expressions mirroring the same disdain.

"No, no—"

Sandra’s entire body stiffened, her face turning deathly pale.

"Mr. Porter, you can’t agree to this!

I’m your daughter—your own flesh and blood!"

So what if she was his flesh and blood?

Mr. Porter remained unmoved, not even sparing her a glance.

A rebellious daughter who constantly defied him was far less valuable than the tangible benefits he stood to gain.

Having made his decision, he wasn’t about to second-guess it now.

"These barrels are all filled with gasoline," Camilla wasn’t the least bit surprised by Mr. Porter’s choice. Her beautiful eyes shifted to the array of blue oil drums nearby.

"You know exactly what needs to be done, Mr. Porter," she said coolly, her gaze then landing on Sandra, who was nearly suffocating from despair.

The mockery in her eyes was unmistakable.

"I’ve never had the stomach for brutal scenes," she continued, her tone dripping with false delicacy.

"I’ll wait in the car. Let’s hope you don’t disappoint me, Mr. Porter," No stomach for brutality?

Mr. Porter’s mouth twitched involuntarily. Without another word, Camilla turned and walked out.

Her slender, luminous silhouette cast an almost suffocating beauty against the setting sun—a sight no one dared appreciate under these grim circumstances.

Sandra watched Camilla’s retreating figure, descending into complete hysteria.

She crawled frantically toward the exit like a wounded animal, her face twisted in grotesque fury.

"Camilla, you vicious witch—you’ll get what’s coming to you!" she shrieked, her voice raw with hatred.

"I curse you to die horribly—all of you! Every last one of you will—" Ramsey’s brow furrowed deeply.

"Madam, I’ll go shut her up."

"No need," Camilla replied dismissively.

If words could kill, she’d have died a thousand deaths by now.