Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 266: An eye for an eye

A unique way of communication?

Camilla’s beautiful eyes narrowed slightly as she fell into silence.

Her mind involuntarily recalled the golden parasitic insect that had emerged from Carrie Ann’s body.

After a brief pause, she nodded.

"Agree to her request."

"Yes."

Luke acknowledged with a nod, shifting gears to accelerate.

However, the car wasn’t heading toward the Luther Family Manor but instead toward the outskirts of the city.

The black Rolls-Royce came to a stop in front of a secluded villa.

Luke stepped out and moved to open the rear door for Camilla.

Yet before he could, she had already exited the car herself, her slender, straight legs carrying her gracefully toward the entrance.

"Madam."

"Madam!"

The mercenaries stationed outside the villa immediately stepped aside in deference.

Camilla gave a slight nod, her delicate face composed and indifferent.

"How’s the patient doing?"

A voice as crisp and cold as ice cut through the air.

"Still refusing to eat or drink," one of the mercenaries replied with a frown, his tone matter-of-fact.

"Surviving solely on IV fluids."

So, determined to die?

Camilla’s pale lips pressed into a thin line, the air around her turning even more frigid.

*Beep—*

The specialized lock clicked open after scanning her fingerprint, the heavy door sliding aside with a slow, mechanical groan.

Darkness yawned before them—a room so pitch-black it might as well have been the mouth of an abyss.

Not a single sliver of light pierced its depths.

*Click.*

Luke flipped the switch, flooding the space with harsh artificial light.

Without hesitation, Camilla stepped inside.

The enormous room contained nothing but a solitary bed.

Its stark emptiness was suffocating.

Bound to the bed was a gaunt man with hollowed cheeks.

His body twitched intermittently from pain, his emaciated frame reduced to little more than skin and bones—a living skeleton.

It was impossible to connect this wretched figure with the refined and handsome adopted son of the Luther Family he had once been.

"Here we go again," Micheal winced as harsh light suddenly flooded the room, forcing his eyes shut.

"I told you, I won’t take it. Save your breath."

All he wanted now was death.

Death would not only free him from this torment but also drag Sinclair, Camilla, and the entire Luther Family down into hell with him.

"Seems you still don’t understand," Camilla’s voice was icy, cutting through the air like a winter gale.

"Whether you take it or not, whether it’s given or forced—that’s not your decision to make."

Camilla?!

Micheal’s eyes widened abruptly at the sound, his entire body freezing as if his blood had turned to ice.

In his mind, this woman was even more terrifying than Sinclair.

After all, every time she appeared, he endured inhuman torment.

"What’s the matter?"

Camilla took in Micheal’s expression with a faint, enigmatic smile playing on her crimson lips.

"Has it only been a few days, and you’ve already forgotten me?"

What does this woman want now?

Micheal’s heart trembled, his lips moving soundlessly.

After a moment, he pressed them tightly together, refusing to speak.

His bloodshot eyes, long accustomed to the darkness, glared at Camilla with unyielding intensity.

"Madam."

A mercenary stepped in from outside the door.

"Everything has been prepared as you instructed."

Prepared?

Prepared for what?

Micheal’s pupils contracted as he stared at Camilla, his very soul trembling uncontrollably.

That bitch, what new torment does she have in store for him?!

"Let them in."

Camilla curled her lips into a smirk and gracefully settled into the chair Luke had prepared for her.

Crossing her slender, perfectly straight legs, she fixed Micheal with a gaze so icy it could freeze hell over.

Click-clack, click-clack.

Several white-coated doctors filed in, followed by mercenaries pushing an assortment of medical equipment.

The moment they entered, they began bustling around Micheal’s bedside with clinical efficiency.

"Camilla, what the hell are you up to now?!"

Micheal ground his teeth together, his entire body radiating a mixture of helplessness and utter despair.

"What am I doing?

Just giving you a thorough medical checkup, of course."

Camilla twirled a scalpel that had appeared out of nowhere between her fingers, her voice cool and detached.

"I told you," she said, the cold glint of the blade reflecting in her clear, unreadable eyes.

"You don’t get to die without my permission.

And you won’t."

Veins bulged at Micheal’s temples and neck, his rage barely contained.

Ignoring him, Camilla leaned back in her chair and issued a calm command.

"Begin."

"Yes!"

A team of doctors sprang into action, meticulously examining Micheal with professional instruments, leaving no inch of his body unchecked.

At that moment, Micheal was as helpless as a slab of meat on a chopping board, utterly at their mercy.

Fury burned in his bloodshot eyes as he glared at Camilla, his voice choked with hatred.

"Camilla, you damn—"

Before he could finish, an endoscope was shoved down his throat.

A wave of pain and nausea hit him instantly, leaving him unable to speak.

Camilla lowered her gaze, her delicate, porcelain-like profile icy and detached.

She needed to know exactly how much longer Micheal’s body could hold on—only then could she plan her next move.

The life-linked poisonous worm inside Sinclair had to be removed.

Time ticked by, minute by minute, until over an hour had slipped away in the blink of an eye.

To anyone else, that hour would have meant nothing.

But for Micheal, it felt like centuries—agonizingly slow and unbearable.

By the time the doctors finally stopped their work, his complexion had shifted from ashen to a deathly gray.

"Madam—"

The lead doctor handed Camilla the scans and test results.

She examined them carefully, her finely arched brows knitting tightly together.

The organ failure was far worse than she had anticipated.

Especially his heart and kidneys.

"Luke," Camilla said, her voice grave.

"Utilize the medical resources of the Luther Family to find compatible kidney and heart donors."

When all else failed, she would personally perform the transplant surgery for Michael herself—just to keep him alive a little longer, and then longer still.

"Understood!"

Luke gave a firm nod.

"It’s pointless, Camilla.

No matter how hard you try, my body won’t last much longer."

Michael stared at her, his lips twisting into a dark, deranged smirk.

"Soon enough, Sinclair will die with me too."

The veins at his temples bulged violently, his eyes burning with a terrifying crimson.

"Whether he lives hating me or dies, he’ll still end up keeping me company in the end.

Hahaha—"

By the time he finished speaking, his bloodshot eyes were nearly bulging out of their sockets.

At this moment, he no longer resembles a man—but a dying beast howling in despair.

"You’re destined for disappointment." Camilla’s beautiful eyes narrowed slowly, her exquisite yet icy face radiating an aura of chilling frost that made it impossible to meet her gaze.

"But I won’t deny it—you’ve certainly succeeded in enraging me."

She rose and approached Michael, gripping his chin firmly before slashing surgical blades ruthlessly across both corners of his mouth.

Bright crimson blood splattered instantly across her porcelain-white hand, creating a grotesquely vivid contrast.

"Ah—!"

Unbearable agony erupted through Michael’s body.

His eyes bulged wide, his mouth gaping involuntarily as a guttural scream tore from his throat.

The cuts stretched his lips all the way to his ears, twin trails of scarlet streaming down his cheeks.

His contorted, nightmarish visage resembled something straight out of a macabre Western horror—a blood-drenched clown from the darkest recesses of hell.

The surrounding doctors instinctively held their breaths, bowing their heads to avoid the ghastly sight.

Yet Camilla remained utterly composed.

She withdrew her hand with icy detachment, producing a handkerchief to meticulously wipe away the splattered blood.

An eye for an eye.

Whoever made her suffer would suffer tenfold.