Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 236: Who is the Biological father of Tyler Luther

"What man?"

Margaret averted her gaze, her jaw clenched tightly.

"I have no idea what you’re talking about."

She knew all too well—if she confessed, the Luther Family would have no reason to keep her alive.

She had to wait.

Wait until the men she sent to Mileage succeeded in killing Sinclair.

Wait until she can figure out a way to save herself and Tyler. freewёbnoνel.com

The odds were slim, but it was better than nothing.

"Very well."

Camilla’s beautiful eyes narrowed slightly, radiating a bone-chilling coldness.

Her soft voice carried not a trace of warmth.

"Ramsey, proceed."

Ramsey understood instantly and strode toward Tyler.

Tyler’s eyes widened in terror.

"Stop!

Ramsey, stay the hell away from me!"

Margaret began to panic as well.

"Camilla, what the hell do you want?

Let Tyler go right now!"

"I told you, you’re in no position to negotiate with me," Camilla replied, her icy gaze flickering past Margaret to land on Tyler.

Her lips curled into a cruel smirk.

"Think carefully—what matters more?

Your son’s life, or that man’s status?"

Ramsey stepped forward and drove his fist hard into Tyler’s stomach.

"Ugh—!"

A dull thud echoed through the room as veins bulged along Tyler’s neck.

He doubled over in agony, his face contorted with pain.

But with his mouth gagged, all that escaped was a muffled, strangled groan.

"Tyler—!"

Margaret’s eyes nearly burst from their sockets as she lunged forward, desperate to stop them.

But the two mercenaries blocking her path stood like an impenetrable wall, leaving her no opening.

Camilla leaned back in her chair, watching the scene unfold with detached indifference.

*Thud.*

*Thud.*

Ramsey’s assault continued mercilessly.

Crimson blood trickled from the corners of Tyler’s mouth and nostrils.

His face contorted grotesquely, veins bulging across his entire body from the excruciating pain.

His battered frame convulsed violently—were it not for the ropes binding him, he would have collapsed long ago.

"Camilla, I beg you—stop Ramsey!"

Margaret pleaded desperately, her eyes brimming with panic and supplication as she stared at the impassive woman.

"If this continues, Tyler will die!!"

"Pleading with me is pointless," Camilla replied coolly, her lips curling into a faint smile without even glancing at Margaret.

"Tyler’s life rests in your hands now."

Margaret’s lips trembled, her pallor turning ghostly white.

The implication was crystal clear—unless she talked, she’d have to watch Tyler beaten to death before her very eyes.

Tyler had heard Camilla’s words too.

His bloodshot eyes locked onto Margaret’s, radiating sheer desperation.

He was still young—he didn’t want to die.

Tyler’s gaze was the final straw that broke Margaret’s composure completely.

She staggered back two steps before collapsing to the floor, her face a mask of despair.

"I’ll talk... I’ll talk." Camilla’s expression was one of quiet understanding.

"Ramsey, let him go."

"Yes."

Ramsey released Tyler, breathing slightly labored as he stepped back behind Camilla.

Tyler, on the other hand, leaned weakly against the wall, his eyes filled with anguish.

Camilla’s beautiful eyes were cold and unreadable.

"Go on."

"Sinclair’s real father is—"

Margaret bit her lip so hard it nearly bled, her voice strained as if forced from her throat, each word a struggle.

"It’s..."

No shame in doing it, but too ashamed to say it?

Camilla watched Margaret with detached amusement, her tone laced with disdain as she finished the sentence for her.

"Norris, the butler of the Luther Family villa, right?"

There was no way Margaret could have deceived Jonathan so thoroughly without inside help.

That fact alone made Norris—Jonathan’s most trusted aide—the prime suspect.

The moment these words were spoken, both Margaret and Tyler’s pupils contracted sharply.

But their reactions couldn’t have been more different. Margaret’s face drained of color in abject terror.

Tyler, however, looked as though he’d been struck—his expression a mixture of disbelief and visceral rejection.

His biological father... was actually the man he despised most in this world?

The undisguised panic flashing across Margaret’s face confirmed Camilla’s suspicion.

She’d hit the mark.

"You’ve got quite the nerve," Camilla’s beautiful eyes glinted with icy disdain as she stared down at Margaret.

"Too bad you’re not half as clever."

Did she really think she could keep this deception hidden forever?

Margaret slumped to the floor, her face drained of color.

Her lips trembled, but no sound escaped.

"Oh, one more thing," Camilla paused at the doorway, glancing back with a faint, mocking smile.

"I forgot to mention—what I sent to Jonathan wasn’t just the paternity test.

Tamara was part of the package too."

That wretched woman—she was Camilla’s doing as well?!

Which meant... they had been dancing in the palm of her hand all along?!

The realization hit Margaret like a sledgehammer.

She sat frozen, her entire body numb, as if her soul had been ripped away.

"Debts always come due," Camilla said coolly before turning to leave.

"No matter how much time passes."

Her icy gaze held a bone-chilling coldness.

These words, she spoke them for Sinclair.

Margaret’s face turned ashen, her eyes brimming with helplessness and despair so palpable it seemed to suffocate the air.

Uncle Carlos was waiting in the living room. The moment he spotted Camilla, he hurried forward.

"Madam."

Camilla gave a slight nod, her eyes sweeping the room. "Has Grandpa gone to rest?"

There were things she still wanted to confess to Grandpa Luther— Like the paternity test.

Or the matter with the Porter family.

"He just lay down," Uncle Carlos replied with a nod.

"Grandpa was quite upset by the family affairs today—it took a toll on his energy."

His expression softened as he continued,

"But he made a special trip to the kitchen earlier to have the chef prepare all your favorite dishes.

You should eat something first."

The day had been too eventful, leaving Camilla with little appetite. Yet she couldn’t bear to disappoint grandpa’s kindness, so she nodded softly.

"Alright."

While waiting for the dishes to be served, Camilla shared her findings with Uncle Carlos.

" Norris?"

Uncle Carlos’s brows instantly furrowed into deep creases, his expression a mix of shock and grim realization.

The man had worked for the Luther Family for over twenty or thirty years, earning the grandpa Luther and Mr. Jonathan’s complete trust—practically a right-hand man.

With him involved, no wonder the truth had stayed hidden for so long.

"I’ll arrange for someone to bring Norris in immediately."

"Not just bring him in," Camilla agreed, her voice firm.

"We also need to dig into his background and track his movements over the years."

They had to find out if someone else was pulling the strings behind the scenes.

"Understood," Uncle Carlos replied with a solemn nod.

"Also, regarding Margaret and Tyler," Camilla took a sip of her steaming tea, her beautiful eyes lifting to meet uncle Carlos’s gaze.

"Have someone administer the ’Half-Moon medicine’ I prepared to them," she said firmly, her voice low and resolute.

"Grandfather’s suffering won’t go unanswered.

Let them taste the bitter fruit of their own deeds."

"Rest assured, Madam,"uncle Carlos nodded, his eyes filled with deep respect.

The events of the past few days had truly shown him the commanding presence and decisive methods befitting the lady of the household.

Just then, a servant brought out the dishes the chef had specially prepared for Camilla.

Her gaze swept over the lavish spread, and a faint trace of helplessness flickered in her eyes.

"Uncle Carlos, Ramsey, join me for dinner."

"No need." Before Ramsey could respond, uncle Carlos spoke up first.

"Please enjoy your meal, Madam. Ramsey and I aren’t hungry yet.

We’ll take care of the matter you just entrusted to us first—there’ll be plenty of time to eat afterward."

Without giving Camilla a chance to insist, he gave a slight bow and ushered Ramsey out of the room.

"Didn’t he also work hard with Madam all day?"

Ramsey clutched his growling stomach, shooting an exasperated look at Uncle Carlos.

"You’re really my biological father, aren’t you?"

"Since you know I’m your real dad, then show some filial piety," Uncle Carlos said, patting Ramsey on the shoulder.

"Go handle those two tasks the young mistress just assigned—consider it doing me a favor."

Ramsey: ?!

The 10,086th time he considered getting a DNA test.

In the dimly lit room.

"Camilla, don’t even think about leaving me."

"Camilla, take the knife—stab me right here."