My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 194: Richard’s Secret (3)

When Cammy finally rejoined the others, the atmosphere in the mansion had shifted.

The dining room was now behind them, and the party had gravitated toward the luxurious living room where glasses clinked, quiet jazz played in the background, and hushed conversations about business deals buzzed in the air like static.

But none of it mattered to Greg.

The moment she stepped in, his eyes locked onto her—like a magnet pulling him from the circle of suited men and strategic talk. He stood up immediately, his expression tightening with concern as he crossed the room in a few quick strides.

His hand found the small of her back, warm and grounding. "Are you okay?" he asked, voice low but urgent. "My father said he saw you rushing off to the bathroom... You look pale."

Cammy forced a small smile, willing her voice not to tremble. "I’m fine... I think it’s just a tension headache starting to build—and maybe a little indigestion. The food was incredible, and I probably overdid it."

Greg’s brows furrowed as he scanned her face. "Or it could be the stress. What happened this morning with Dylan and Duncan was already too much. I knew we should’ve stayed at your apartment and postponed this whole dinner. I said it—didn’t I?"

There was something in his voice—protective, frustrated, maybe even regretful. He looked like he wanted to pull her away from all of this, take her somewhere quiet, somewhere safe.

Cammy did everything in her power to appear unfazed.

She reached up and gave his chest a gentle pat, her touch playful, but her heart still beating with chaos beneath the surface. "Hey, you say that after I just watched you laughing it up with your lawyers and accountants? Looked like you were having a fantastic time."

Greg gave a soft chuckle, but his eyes didn’t leave her face.

"And besides," she added, her smile a little tighter, "the food really was amazing. So stop worrying. I’m not going to drop dead in the middle of your big corporate moment."

But even as the words left her mouth, her own voice sounded distant in her ears.

Because behind the smiles, behind the banter, one terrifying truth pulsed beneath her skin like a ticking time bomb—Greg might be her brother.

And if that was true...

No. She couldn’t let her mind go there. Not yet. Not in front of everyone. Not in front of him.

So she smiled a little brighter, leaned into his touch just a little more... and prayed she wouldn’t break before the night was over.

Cammy and Greg returned to their seats, slipping seamlessly back into the current of polite laughter and corporate small talk that filled the lavish living room.

But while Greg kept up appearances—smiling, nodding, even tossing in the occasional witty remark—his hand never left her. It rested on her knee, warm and possessive, his thumb brushing gentle circles against her skin, a quiet reminder of their connection.

To anyone else, it looked intimate. Comforting. But Cammy could feel the tension coiled in his fingertips. He wasn’t fully present. Something else was pulling at him—and she suspected exactly what it was.

When Richard Cross eventually stood from his chair, announcing his intent to visit the bathroom with an offhand mutter, Greg’s body stiffened slightly. This was his moment.

"Father, wait," Greg called out, already rising to his feet. "Can I have a word with you? Just a quick one."

Richard turned with visible irritation. "Gregory, I’m about to piss my pants. Can it wait?"

"It’s about what you said to Cammy at the gala," Greg said firmly, keeping his voice low but intense. "It’s been eating at me. I played it cool in front of her, said it was just business competition... but I need to know what that was really about."

Richard paused, blinking once. Then he gave a dismissive wave of his hand. "Oh, that. Yes, well... you weren’t wrong. I did talk to her—just now, actually, when she went to the bathroom. She told me her soon-to-be ex-husband had already took over CorEx and her father’s practically a vegetable. So, I dropped it. Not worth stirring the pot."

Greg narrowed his eyes. His gut twisted. The explanation sounded convenient. Too smooth. "Just like that?" he asked, voice edged with disbelief.

"Yes, Gregory, just like that," Richard snapped, tone clipped. "What do you want me to do? Dig up a dying man and challenge him to a boardroom duel? The man can’t even sit upright anymore. Give him peace."

Richard’s gaze lingered on his son for a beat—too long—then he patted him lightly on the shoulder. "Now, if you don’t mind, I really need to relieve myself. Old man’s bladder doesn’t wait for dramatic tension."

With that, he turned and walked off, disappearing down the hallway.

Greg stood there for a moment, unmoving. Something about the whole exchange didn’t sit right. His father was many things—calculating, strategic, and rarely one to give up on a business opportunity. Letting it go? Just like that?

No. There was more.

As Richard disappeared from sight, Greg’s hand clenched into a fist by his side.

Something had changed tonight.

And he was going to find out what.

When Greg returned to Cammy’s side, the shift in her demeanor was impossible to ignore. Her posture was stiff, her eyes distant—like her mind had slipped far from the elegant chaos of the room and into some place darker, colder.

The color in her face remained ghostly pale, and though she smiled faintly at a passing joke, her eyes betrayed her.

Greg leaned in close, his voice a low whisper against her ear. "We’ve been here long enough. Let’s go."

Cammy gave a small nod—grateful, relieved. She’d been thinking the same thing... but for entirely different reasons. Her pulse was still erratic, her thoughts tangled in everything Richard had just revealed.

And no matter how straight she sat or how poised she pretended to be, the cracks in her facade were widening by the second.

She wasn’t sure how much longer she could keep pretending.