My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 60: Keep Digging

Harry raised his hands in a gesture of surrender. "Whoa, chill out, man. What’s with you? Why are you flipping out on me?"

Greg grabbed Harry by the collar and pulled him close, his voice low and menacing. "Don’t you ever talk trash about Cammy again! Yeah, I slept with her, and I’ll make damn sure I’m the last man she’s ever with. Got it?"

When Greg finally shoved him back, Harry stumbled but quickly regained his footing, brushing off his shirt. "The rest of her life? What’s that supposed to mean? Are you planning to marry her?"

Greg smirked and took another bite of his pancakes. "Maybe," he replied curtly.

"Maybe? What kind of answer is that?" Harry scoffed, shaking his head. "Alright, fine. Let me rephrase. Since you’re not even officially together, are you in love with her?" He asked as he slid back into his seat.

To his surprise, Greg didn’t respond. He kept his head down, entirely absorbed in his pancakes, not even bothering to glance up.

Harry frowned, waiting a few moments for a reply. When none came, he leaned forward. "Well? Are you going to answer me or what?"

Suddenly, Harry gasped dramatically, "OH MY GOD!" slapping a hand over his mouth, his loud exclamation breaking the silence and causing Greg to startle.

Greg glanced around, confused, searching for the source of Harry’s outburst. "What? What’s wrong?" he asked, his eyes narrowing as he turned his gaze back to Harry.

Harry’s wide eyes darted to Greg, and he slowly raised a trembling finger, pointing at him with exaggerated disbelief.

"What the hell is it? Not funny!" Greg snapped.

"Oh my God! You’re in love!" Harry declared, eyes wide with mock realization.

Greg groaned, rolling his eyes. "Stop making assumptions about how I feel."

"Damn! I’m not assuming anything. Silence means yes, and you didn’t say a word when I asked. Don’t even try to deny it!" Harry insisted, pointing at him accusingly.

"I am not in love with Cammy, alright?" Greg shot back firmly, his tone leaving no room for argument.

Harry arched an eyebrow. "Then what was with the whole grabbing-my-shirt act? Getting worked up over nothing, are we?"

Greg let out a heavy sigh, leaning his elbows on the kitchen island. "Listen, I’m not in love with her. I know that for sure. I just think she deserves better than Ric. That guy’s a player—a damn good one."

Harry folded his arms, clearly unconvinced. "Uh-huh... sure. Then why did you say you’re going to be the last guy she ever sleeps with? What’s that about? What exactly are you planning?"

Greg clenched his jaw, irritation written all over his face. Harry’s relentless questioning was starting to wear thin. "Enough! I’m not in the mood to satisfy your curiosity. Finish your food and get out of my house," he snapped. Without waiting for a response, Greg shoved the last bite of pancakes into his mouth, grabbed his coffee cup, and strode off toward his home office.

Harry chuckled softly, watching Greg retreat. ’You’re in love, Greg. It’s painfully obvious—you’re just too scared to admit it,’ he thought with amusement.

In the quiet of his home office, Greg stood by the floor-to-ceiling window, his coffee in hand. His gaze drifted toward the direction of Cammy’s neighborhood. After a moment of hesitation, he pulled out his phone and dialed her number. Once, twice, three times—each call went unanswered.

"Damn it, Cammy! Answer the goddamn phone!" Greg muttered under his breath, frustration was all over his face as he tried calling her one last time before finally giving up.

He dropped into his office chair with a heavy sigh, his eyes landing on his computer screen, where a picture of Cammy sleeping peacefully was set as his desktop wallpaper.

"Please don’t be mad at me," he murmured softly to the image, running a hand through his hair. Shaking his head, he opened his email inbox. "I need to distract myself with work today. If I don’t, I’ll probably end up driving back to her apartment—and that’ll just make things worse. She surely won’t like it." he said to himself.

**********

On the opposite side of the city...

Ric headed straight to one of his Michelin-starred restaurants to cool off. He knew himself too well—going back to his penthouse in this mood would likely result in him smashing whatever was closest to hand.

Since the restaurant wouldn’t open until lunch, Ric slipped in through the back door and made his way to his office.

"Good morning, boss! You’re ear–" the head chef greeted cheerfully, but his words faltered as he took in Ric’s disheveled appearance. "What happened? Did you have an accident? Hold on, I’ll grab the first aid kit!"

"Don’t bother. I’ll just take a shower," Ric muttered, but the head chef had already rushed off, too far away to hear him.

Shaking his head, Ric went straight to his office, pulled a towel and a set of spare clothes from his drawer, and headed to the shower without waiting.

Ric stripped off his clothes as soon as he entered the bathroom, pausing to assess himself in the mirror. He clicked his tongue in annoyance at the sight of the bruises Greg had left on his face and upper body.

"Not bad for a guy who spends most of his time behind a desk," he muttered, tracing the purple and red marks. "Let’s hope concealer can cover this mess."

After showering, he stepped out to find the head chef waiting outside, holding a first aid kit.

"I don’t need that," Ric said flatly.

"Boss, you’re more than just a chef and business owner—you’re a celebrity, the face of your restaurants. Your talent agent won’t be thrilled to see your face like that. But the public and reporters? Oh, they’ll love the drama," the head chef pointed out with a knowing look.

Ric sighed, realizing the chef had a point. "Fine, I get it. Maybe you’re right. Hand it over—I’ll take care of it myself."

The head chef grinned and happily handed him the kit before heading off, leaving Ric to tend to his injuries.

"Wait," Ric called out to the head chef causing him to halt. "Is everything set for the school event tomorrow? I want it to be perfect. I’ve got someone to impress, and they say food is the way to a woman’s heart, right?"

The head chef grinned and nodded. He had worked for Ric for years, and this was the first time he’d heard him talk about a woman. In all their time as colleagues and friends, Ric had never mentioned or been seen with a woman—aside from his aunt, Felicity.

"Yes, Ric, everything is ready. And if it’s about impressing a woman, don’t worry—she’ll be thoroughly impressed."

Ric smiled, giving the chef a pat on the shoulder. "Thanks. I knew I could count on you. Get back to the preparations. I’ll be in my office if you need anything."

The head chef gave him one last nod before heading off to continue his work.

Ric immediately called his assistant as soon as he entered his office. "What do you have on Gregory Cross? Anything useful for me?"

[I’m sorry, boss. Besides his well-known history with women, his background is completely sealed. It’s as if someone deliberately erased his past. I couldn’t find anything on his mother’s side. The only thing I found is that his father’s current wife isn’t his biological mother.]

"That’s too obvious. She’s far too young to be his mother. There’s something dark about his past, and that’s why they’re hiding it. It’s probably his father’s doing. Keep digging. I also need you to handle something else for me..." Ric said before turning his attention to his wounds and bruises.

[Got it, boss. Just give me the details...]