My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 290: Deserving of Love

"There’s something you need to know, Cammy."

Greg’s voice was calm, but the weight behind his words instantly made Cammy’s heart drop. Her brows furrowed as confusion flooded her face. "What do you mean?" she asked softly, searching his expression for answers.

Greg didn’t respond right away. Instead, he turned his head toward the hallway again. That’s when Cammy saw a familiar figure stepping into view—her father’s caregiver.

"Hello, Ma’am," the caregiver greeted gently, her voice hesitant, almost nervous.

Cammy’s confusion only deepened. "What’s going on?" she asked, looking between Greg and the caregiver.

"She has something to tell you," Greg said, his tone still guarded. "Let’s all sit in the living room first."

They moved together into the vast, elegantly furnished lounge. The moment was too heavy, the silence nearly deafening. Peter Watson was wheeled to the center, Greg helped Cammy onto the couch beside him, and then everyone else took their seats.

Greg gave the caregiver a small nod.

With trembling hands, she clutched the hem of her uniform and began, "Madam Monica... she always instructed me to serve Mr. Watson a specific herbal tea. She said it was something she ordered from abroad... that it was known to help speed up recovery."

Cammy blinked. "Yes... I’ve seen her prepare that for him before. I remember..."

"I thought nothing of it," the caregiver continued. "She drank it herself sometimes, so I assumed it was safe. I only followed what she told me."

"I still don’t understand where this is going," Cammy said, her voice strained. Her eyes darted to Greg, her heart beginning to race again.

Greg exhaled, his jaw tight. "The tea... it contains a rare Asian herb. In healthy people, it has beneficial effects. But for stroke patients—especially those with delicate neurological conditions—it acts like a slow poison. It worsens the symptoms and delays the healing process. And the worst part? It doesn’t show up in blood tests."

Cammy’s eyes widened, her lips trembling. "Are you saying... she was poisoning my father all this time?"

Peter raised a hand weakly and shook his head. "No, sweetheart. I don’t think Monica ever knew. She was careless, maybe even reckless, but she didn’t have the intention to kill me. She never wanted to hurt me... at least, not like that."

Greg stepped in gently. "What we’re saying is this: your father could’ve recovered months ago—years even—if not for that tea. He wasn’t healing because his body was constantly fighting off its effects. But now that it’s gone from his system, he’s improving rapidly. You can see it yourself."

Cammy turned to her father again—his face, less pale; his eyes, more alive. He looked like a man reborn.

"But... how did you find all this out?" Cammy whispered.

Greg sat forward, resting his elbows on his knees. "After speaking to several doctors, I knew something didn’t add up. They all said your dad’s condition should’ve improved faster. So, I hired a team of specialists to discreetly investigate everything in the penthouse—every food item, supplement, and medication Monica gave him."

He paused, then added, "That’s when they found it. The tea. And the truth."

Cammy couldn’t speak. Her chest tightened with emotion, tears pooling again in her eyes. "You... you did all that... for my father?"

Greg turned to her fully now. His voice was firm but soft. "Not your father. Ours. He’s my family now, too, Cammy. His life, his health—it matters to me just as much as yours."

That broke her. With a choked sob, Cammy surged into Greg’s arms, throwing her arms around his neck. He caught her easily, holding her tightly as she cried into his shoulder.

"I don’t deserve you..." she whispered through her tears.

Greg kissed her hair and held her even closer. "You deserve everything, Cammy. And I’ll spend the rest of my life proving that to you."

But even as their embrace brought warmth to the room, a shadow lingered over them still.

Because now that Monica’s carelessness was exposed, one question remained unanswered...

Was it truly a mistake... or something more intentional than they dared to believe?

"Cammy, sweetheart... can I talk to you for a moment?" Peter asked softly, his eyes holding a weight of unspoken emotion.

Greg, sensing the gravity of the moment, gave Cammy’s shoulder a gentle squeeze before quietly rising. He nodded to the caregiver, and together they slipped out of the room, leaving father and daughter alone.

The silence between them was thick for a beat—heavy, but not uncomfortable. Then Peter finally spoke, his voice trembling with sincerity.

"I know everything, Cammy," he said, breaking the stillness like a ripple in calm water. "The truth. All of it."

Cammy blinked, startled.

"The caregivers... they kept me informed about the DNA test and your cases. Every visit, every court appearance, every fall, and every victory. I’ve been here, behind these walls, silently watching my little girl fight battles that would’ve broken anyone else." His voice cracked, emotion tightening his throat. "And through it all, you remained standing."

"Daddy..." Cammy whispered, her eyes starting to glisten.

Peter shook his head, tears now streaming down his face. "I am so damn proud of you. You’ve become the strongest woman I’ve ever known. You carried burdens that weren’t yours to carry, fought wars without an army, and you still came out with your head held high. Cammy... I’m so sorry. I’m sorry I wasn’t there for you the way a father should be. I was helpless... I—"

"No," Cammy interrupted, her voice breaking as she quickly dropped to her knees beside his wheelchair, grasping his hands tightly. "Don’t ever say that, Daddy. Don’t you dare say that."

Tears rolled freely down her cheeks now.

"You were everything to me. Even when you couldn’t speak, even when you couldn’t move—just knowing you were still here, breathing, fighting—that gave me strength. When I thought I had nothing left, I thought of you. When the world turned its back on me, I remembered that I had a father who loved me."

Peter bowed his head, sobbing quietly, overwhelmed by the weight of her words.

"You were my anchor," she whispered, resting her forehead against his hand. "So don’t you ever think you didn’t help me. You saved me, Daddy... just by being you."

Peter gently cupped the side of her face, lifting her tear-streaked eyes to meet his. "Then let me keep saving you, Cammy. Let me spend the rest of my life making up for the time I lost."

Cammy nodded through her tears, her heart aching and healing all at once.

And for the first time in a long, long time... she truly felt at peace in her father’s arms.

After their heart-rending conversation, Cammy wiped the tears from her cheeks, squared her shoulders, and gently took the handles of Peter’s wheelchair. As they exited the living room, a calming warmth washed over her—a sense of renewal she hadn’t felt in years.

Near the foyer, the caregiver stood waiting, hands clasped respectfully.

"Ma’am, please," she said, stepping forward with a soft smile. "Let me take over. You shouldn’t be pushing anything heavy in your condition."

Peter scoffed playfully. "Are you saying I’ve gotten fat?"

Cammy let out a surprised laugh, the heaviness in her chest lifting for just a moment.

"Well..." the caregiver replied with a teasing grin, "you have been eating like a king lately. So yes, sir, you’ve gained a few."

Peter chuckled heartily, patting his belly. "I’ll take it as a compliment. At least someone’s finally feeding me properly."

Cammy’s eyes darted around. "Have you seen Greg?"

"He went to the back garden," the caregiver replied. "Told me he’d be waiting there for you."

Curious, Cammy kissed her father on the forehead and stepped outside.

There, she spotted Greg—sitting in a sleek, white golf cart, grinning like a boy with a secret.

Cammy raised a brow. "Is that new?"

Greg nodded, patting the passenger seat. "Yes. Just arrived this morning. I bought it for you—to make it easier to explore the estate. Come on, hop in. I’ve got something to show you."

Intrigued, Cammy climbed in beside him. Greg started the cart, and they drove beyond the sculpted gardens and manicured lawns, past the gentle slope of the vineyard, until the dense edge of the estate’s woods began to frame their view.

Then, through a break in the trees, a small building came into sight—simple, elegant, and familiar.

Cammy froze.

Her breath hitched. Her eyes welled up.

"No way..." she whispered, both hands flying to her mouth in disbelief.

Greg stopped the cart, watching her reaction with silent pride.

"You... built this?" she asked, voice trembling.

"I had it designed before everything went south. And finally I had it built while you were in the hospital. It’s yours forever now," Greg said, his tone low and full of love.

Cammy turned to him, overwhelmed, unable to speak.

Greg reached for her hand.

"You’ve been through enough, Cammy. You deserve to keep the parts of yourself that healed you—and to create new ones without fear."

Cammy sobbed into his shoulder, holding him tightly, her voice breaking. "I don’t deserve this... I don’t..."

Greg pulled her closer. "You deserve everything, Cammy. Especially love."