Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 368: Mr. Jonathan just made his first move

"No,"

Violet replied with a faint, stubborn smile that held warmth yet defiance.

"I’m not leaving until I see Taylor.

Leaving now would mean returning to the same dead end.

The doctors had been clear—her son Ace’s condition couldn’t wait any longer.

She’d made up her mind before coming: no matter how long it took, she *would* see Taylor.

"Miss Violet, forgive my bluntness," the butler said, his polite detachment cooling further at her refusal.

"Mr. Taylor has no wish to meet you. Waiting changes nothing."

His eyes narrowed slightly as he studied her.

"Just as it changed nothing years ago... when you treated him the same way."

The memory was etched in his mind—Taylor standing outside Violets door in the pouring rain for a day and a night, until illness felled him.

And through it all, that door had remained shut.

"If you chose to abandon him then," the butler pressed, "why seek him out now?"

The butler’s tone grew heavier.

"What you’re doing serves no purpose other than making everyone uncomfortable."

His words cut through Violet’s heart like a razor-sharp blade.

The last traces of color drained from her face, and her once-straight posture slumped slightly.

That’s not how it was.

What happened back then wasn’t like that.

That night, Taylor had waited for her in despair, just as she had waited for him. But neither of them had reached the other in time.

"Miss Violet..."

The butler hesitated, watching as Violet swayed on her feet, looking as though she might collapse at any moment.

The Butler couldn’t bring himself to say more. "It’s getting late.

The estate will be closing its gates soon.

I’ll arrange for someone to take you back."

This time, it wasn’t a request. ---

In the dining room, Taylor ate with refined elegance, his lowered eyes as calm as still water.

But they were *too* calm—devoid of any warmth.

When the butler returned and noticed the untouched meal, his eyes widened in alarm.

"You haven’t eaten anything, sir!" he exclaimed.

"Sir, you’re allergic to codfish!

You mustn’t eat that!!!"

How could the new chef be so careless?

To forget such a critical dietary restriction was unthinkable.

"Oh?"

Only then did Taylor notice the half-eaten cod on his plate.

A complex emotion flickered deep in his eyes as he set down his knife and fork.

"That’s right," The butler replied, still visibly shaken, his voice laced with concern.

"You must be careful.

Certain foods could be deadly for you—you must never touch them."

Foods he must never touch...

The same principle applied to other things as well. Some things were simply off-limits.

Taylor picked up a napkin to dab his lips, his usual gentle smile returning to his eyes.

"Understood.

You may clear the table now."

The next day.

The once-bright weather had turned gloomy and overcast.

Grandpa Luther listened to Uncle Carlos’s report, his aged face remaining utterly composed.

"Several members of the collateral branches have voiced their opposition."

"Sinclair owes his life to Camilla, let alone these measly shares," Grandpa Luther scoffed, slamming the lid of his teacup onto the table with deliberate force.

"What right do they have to object?"

His sharp gaze shifted to Uncle Carlos.

"Go ahead—take this opportunity to transfer the remaining shares under my name to Camilla as well."

A faint smile tugged at Uncle Carlos’s lips.

Grandpa was right.

Miss Camilla and Mr.

Sinclair was bound by life itself.

It made no difference who held the reins of the Luther Corporation.

"Understood.

I’ll arrange it immediately."

Just as Uncle Carlos turned to leave, a servant rushed in, breathless with urgency.

"Bad news,

Grandpa!!"

"Grandpa—"

Uncle Carlos was about to leave when a servant rushed in, his footsteps hurried and frantic.

"Something terrible has happened!"

Grandpa Luther lifted his gaze, his sharp eyes cutting through the air like blades.

Frowning deeply, Uncle Carlos demanded,

"What is it?

Why the panic?"

The servant swallowed hard, forcing himself to steady his voice.

"We just got a call from the villa...

They said—" the man took a shaky breath.

"They said Mr. Jonathan has suddenly taken a turn for the worse.

The family doctor is on his way to perform emergency treatment."

No matter what, Mr. Jonathan was still Grandpa Luther’s flesh and blood.

The servant couldn’t help but be nervous.

A sudden deterioration?

Grandpa Luther’s expression darkened instantly, his piercing gaze turning icy.

Uncle Carlos’s frown deepened.

The timing was too convenient—just as the announcement about the stock transfer had been made, Jonathan fell gravely ill.

Looks like he can’t sit still any longer and is about to make his move.

His eyes darkened as he turned to Grandpa Luther.

Grandpa’s weathered face, usually so imposing, was now clouded with gravity.

After a long silence, he finally spoke in a measured tone.

"Let it be."

Let it be?

The servant’s eyes widened in disbelief, wondering if he’d misheard.

But Uncle Carlos’s expression showed understanding—this was grandpa giving his son one last chance to step back.

Seeing the servant frozen in place, Uncle Carlos immediately interjected, "Grandpa Luther has spoken.

What are you still standing around for?"

"Y-yes, right away!"

The servant snapped out of his daze and hurried off.

Grandpa Luther’s gaze drifted to the ancient tree in the courtyard, its once-majestic branches now withered and sparse.

His eyes narrowed, distant and cold. Some useless branches should have been pruned long ago.

It was only because he’d been too soft-hearted that they’d grown so twisted. It’s all his fault.

Uncle Carlos looked at Grandpa Luther, whose spirits had visibly dimmed, his heart aching with sympathy yet at a loss for words of comfort. Meanwhile, Sinclair had also received the news.

Pale gray smoke curled slowly from his thin lips, veiling his strikingly handsome and aristocratic features.

Only the faintest hint of a smirk could be glimpsed through the haze.

"Critically ill?"

Ramsey and Luke kept their heads bowed, not daring to meet those piercing, ice-cold eyes.

They knew all too well—this so-called "illness" of the master’s was unlikely to take a turn for the better.

The flimsy excuse, carelessly tossed out, might very well become his final epitaph.

Amid the heavy silence, Sinclair exhaled a slow stream of smoke before speaking.

"Keep a close watch on Grandpa.

Calvin doesn’t need to be involved in this." freewēbnoveℓ.com

His voice was frigid, laced with a bone-chilling menace, as though with a mere thought, he could effortlessly plunge everything within his sight into peril.

Whatever scheme Jonathan was plotting, Sinclair wouldn’t allow grandpa to be dragged into danger.

Ramsey and Luke immediately grasped their boss’s meaning, their expressions shifting to understanding.

When a man is cornered, there’s no telling what he might do.

The oppressive gloom of the weather weighed heavily on the air. No one could have known.

The impending upheaval within the Luther Family was about to unleash a storm of bloodshed across the capital.

After Ramsey and Luke left, Sinclair pulled out his phone and dialed Calvin’s number.

"Sinclair—"

Calvin’s voice, usually laced with lazy amusement, now carried an unmistakable weariness.

"Mm."

Sinclair got straight to the point, succinctly outlining the details of his collaboration with Stephen Mega.

Understanding dawned in Calvin’s eyes as he listened, his gaze narrowed sharply.

With Stephen Mega now entangled in the mix, Antonio wouldn’t have the bandwidth to focus on anything else—at least for a while.

And that bought them time.

"Got it.

Thanks."

"Thanks?"

Sinclair arched an eyebrow, his voice cool and unhurried.

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