Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 303: Father and Son confrontation

"It’s alright,"

Camilla bent down with a warm smile, her delicate features softening as she extended her hands toward Carrie Ann.

"Come here, sweetheart—give me a hug—"

Carrie Ann glanced at the arm blocking her path, then tilted her head up with effort to meet Sinclair’s gaze, her dark, grape-like eyes clear and innocent.

Sinclair narrowed his obsidian-dark eyes slightly before slowly withdrawing his hand.

Only then did Carrie Ann dart forward unhindered, throwing herself into Camilla’s embrace.

Camilla cradled the child effortlessly against her chest and made her way to the sofa.

Sinclair followed at a leisurely pace, his long legs carrying him smoothly behind her.

His pitch-black eyes never once left Camilla.

Grandpa Luther observed the scene before him, his eyes crinkling with quiet amusement.

"Grandfather," Camilla settled onto the couch beside him with Carrie Ann in her arms, her voice gentle.

"The toxins in your system have mostly cleared.

Are you feeling any better?"

Sinclair’s gaze also rested on the old man, the depths of his dark eyes unmistakably shadowed with concern.

"Much better now,"

Grandpa Luther smiled, his eyes brightening with renewed energy.

"I feel lighter all over."

"That’s good to hear."

Camilla nodded with a smile, glancing at her husband.

The poison in Grandpa’s system had been a heavy burden on both her and Sinclair’s hearts, but now they could finally breathe easy.

Sinclair’s expression remained composed, though the icy worry in his eyes had visibly melted away.

"Uncle Carlos,"

Grandpa Luther turned to Uncle Carlos.

"Have dinner prepared."

"Right away,"

Uncle Carlos nodded cheerfully before heading toward the kitchen.

Meanwhile, the old man’s gaze softened as he looked at the delicate, doll-like little girl nestled in Camilla’s arms.

"When will Carrie Ann’s family arrive?"

There was a hint of reluctance in his voice—this child had grown on him, and the thought of her leaving tugged at his heart.

Camilla understood the implication behind Grandpa Luther’s words and sighed inwardly, reaching out to gently stroke Carrie Ann’s rosy cheeks.

"She should arrive tomorrow."

Though reluctant to part with Carrie Ann, for Sinclair’s sake, she hoped the sooner the better.

After all, they couldn’t pin all their hopes solely on Grandma Porter.

Sinclair watched as Camilla cradled Carrie Ann, her tenderness radiating like a halo, and the corners of his thin lips curved upward slightly.

Seems like I need to work harder.

"Tomorrow?"

Grandpa Luther nodded without further comment.

Carrie Ann, sensing the old man’s reluctance to let her go, immediately wriggled out of Camilla’s arms.

Her tiny legs carried her to the sofa beside Grandpa Luther, where she climbed up and hugged his arm, giving it an affectionate shake.

Her grape-like eyes, clear and pure, held a comforting expression that melted the old man’s heart.

Camilla couldn’t help but smile at the sight.

Just then, a uniformed servant hurried into the room.

"Grandpa, Boss Sinclair, Ms Camilla," Ramsey gave a slight nod to the people seated on the sofa.

"Sir has returned."

Among the servants of the Luther household, "Sir" could only refer to Jonathan.

The smile on Grandpa Luther’s face faded.

Ever since Margaret and Tyler passed away, Jonathan had been drowning his sorrows in alcohol, holed up in the Luther Family villa on the outskirts of the city, never stepping outside.

"Let him in.

I’d like to see what he’s up to this time."

Camilla’s gaze shifted toward the doorway, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes.

Sinclair, meanwhile, toyed with the black jade ring on his thumb, not bothering to look up.

Beneath his lowered lashes, his dark eyes were fathomless, icy pools.

"Right away!"

The servant quickly stepped out.

"Father."

Jonathan walked in.

"Sinclair—"

His eyes briefly lingered on Camilla, but in the end, he said nothing, turning his attention instead to the child beside Grandpa Luther.

"What’s this?"

Jonathan’s gaze settled on the little girl seated beside Grandpa Luther, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Carie Ann met Jonathan’s dark, brooding stare and instinctively tightened her grip around the grandpa, her small frame trembling slightly.

*This man’s eyes... they’re terrifying.*

Sinclair remained in his original posture, his icy, unreadable eyes shifting imperceptibly toward Jonathan.

His expression was inscrutable, as if silently assessing something.

Camilla, too, studied Jonathan.

After days of absence, the middle-aged man—once the picture of refined elegance—now appeared haggard, his face shadowed with stubble.

At a glance, he seemed to have aged years. Recalling Ms. Tina’s words, Camilla’s beautiful eyes gradually darkened.

"Who she is has nothing to do with you,"

Grandpa Luther said coldly, pulling Carie Ann closer as he frowned at Jonathan.

"Speak.

What brings you back?"

Faced with the old man’s indifference and detachment, Jonathan seemed unfazed, as if long accustomed to such treatment.

Without hesitation, he took a seat nearby.

"I just wanted to check in and see how you’re recovering," Jonathan said cautiously.

Grandpa Luther’s expression remained impassive.

"The less I see of you, the faster I’ll recover."

The cutting remark made Jonathan’s eyes flicker with discomfort and resignation.

"Dad, I—"

"Enough," the old man interrupted, peeling an orange with deliberate slowness before handing it to Carie Ann.

"Whether you came back sincerely or just for show, you’ve accomplished your purpose."

His voice carried the weight of decades of disappointment.

"Now leave."

This son of his only brought exhaustion and heartache—out of sight, out of mind.

A shadow flitted through Jonathan’s gaze as he studied his father’s face, too fleeting for anyone to catch.

"There’s something I need to discuss with Sinclair first," he said evenly.

*That boy has been digging into my affairs lately.

Does he know something?*

Grandpa Luther remained silent.

Jonathan’s voice was laced with helplessness as he turned to Sinclair.

"Sinclair, let’s go to the study—"

"Not interested."

Sinclair’s gaze swept over Jonathan with icy detachment, his voice frigid and devoid of warmth.

"Besides, I don’t think there’s anything worth discussing between you and me."

His tone was languid yet indifferent, deliberately distant and cutting.

"Sinclair!!"

Jonathan pressed his lips together, his brows furrowed as he glared at his son.

"I am still your father.

Must you speak to me like this?!"

"I don’t have a father." Sinclair’s dark eyes slid coldly to the corner, fixing on Jonathan as he enunciated each word with chilling precision.

"Never had one, never will."

The corners of his thin lips curled into a faint, mocking smile.

"As for you—you’re Tyler’s father.

No, wait... should I say Tyler Norris?"

"You—"

Sinclair’s words struck like a razor-sharp blade, mercilessly piercing Jonathan’s heart and stealing his breath with the pain. ƒгeeweɓn૦vel.com

No man could endure such humiliation—it was a stain that could never be washed away.

And to be mocked to his face?

That was unbearable.

The tension between father and son thickened the air, suffocating and heavy.

Camilla noticed the deep sorrow etched across Grandpa Luther’s face, her delicate brows knitting together in concern.

No matter the circumstances, watching his own son and grandson at each other’s throats must be agonizing for the old man.

"Aunt Naomi, please see our guest out."

"Yes."

Aunt Naomi understood Camilla’s intention immediately and stepped forward toward Jonathan.

"Sir—"

"See our guest out?"

The words struck Jonathan like a slap.

His sharp gaze snapped toward Camilla, eyes blazing with fury.

"Shut your mouth!

You have no right to speak here!!"

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