My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge
Chapter 108: The Smartest Move

Chapter 108: The Smartest Move

"Greg, please, let him go!" Cammy’s voice trembled as she clung to his arm, her desperation slicing through the tension like a blade.

But Greg was deaf to her pleas. His fury was a storm, unchecked and merciless, as his fist crashed into Duncan’s face once more. The sickening thud echoed through the office, each blow fueled by an anger so raw it was almost tangible.

Cammy tightened her grip, pressing herself against him, her voice now barely above a whisper. "Greg, baby... please. Take me away from here."

And just like that, it was as if the world had stopped.

Greg’s fist, poised to strike again, froze in midair. Her words, her voice—a soft, delicate plea—washed over him like a spell, breaking through the haze of his wrath. His breath hitched, and in an instant, his gaze shifted from Duncan’s bruised face to Cammy’s tear-streaked one.

The moment shattered as footsteps thundered toward them—her bodyguards, and the building’s security, all rushing to intervene. But they were too late.

Greg released Duncan without another thought as if the man no longer existed. Instead, he pulled Cammy into his arms, wrapping her in the only sanctuary he knew—himself.

She melted into him, her sobs quiet yet relentless, her face buried in his chest, where she could hear the steady, strong rhythm of his heart. The world outside could fall apart, but here, in his embrace, she was safe.

As Greg gently patted Cammy’s back, his gaze flickered downward—and then it froze. There, discarded carelessly on the floor, was her ruined lacy underwear. The sight of it, a cruel reminder of what had transpired before he arrived, sent a fresh wave of rage surging through him. But he swallowed it down. This wasn’t the time.

His jaw clenched as he caught the eye of one of Cammy’s female bodyguards and gave a subtle nod. Without hesitation, she moved swiftly, discreetly scooping up the delicate fabric and slipping it into her pocket. No one else saw. No one else needed to know what had happened in this room just moments ago.

Meanwhile, Duncan groaned as the building’s security hauled him to his feet. His face was swollen, his lip split, his pride shattered. Blood trickled from his nose, staining the expensive suit he wore like armor. Yet despite his dazed state, his arrogance remained intact.

"You’ll pay for this!" he spat, his voice hoarse with fury. He turned to the guards, his finger shaking as he pointed at Greg. "Guards! Take him! I want him in custody—call the damn police!"

The guards hesitated, shifting uneasily, but as they moved to follow orders, Greg raised a hand. His expression was unreadable, but the silent command in his eyes was enough to make them pause.

He turned his gaze to Cammy’s female bodyguard and gave her the briefest of nods. Without missing a beat, she reached into her vest and pulled out a folded document, passing it to Randolf.

Randolf scanned it quickly, his expression unreadable. Then he exhaled sharply and turned to Greg. "Go. I’ll handle the rest."

"What the hell are you doing?!" Duncan exploded, his rage spiraling out of control. "I want him punished! That was trespassing, destruction of property, and assault! He doesn’t just walk away from this!"

Randolf met Duncan’s glare with a steady, knowing look. "We’ll discuss this later, Duncan," he said, his tone firm yet careful. "For now, let them leave. Trust me—it’s the smartest move you can make right now."

Duncan’s nostrils flared, but there was something in Randolf’s voice, something unsettling, that made him hesitate. The weight of unspoken consequences lingered in the air, suffocating, heavy.

Randolf nodded at Greg and he started walking away with their bodyguards following behind. He did not remove both his arms on Cammy and guided her out of the room.

And just like that, Greg turned, leading Cammy away—out of that room, out of the nightmare. And Duncan, despite all his bluster, could do nothing but watch.

With a roar of frustration, Duncan seized the first object within reach—his sleek, engraved nameplate—and hurled it to the floor with all his strength. The metal and glass shattered on impact, tiny shards scattering across the room.

"FUCK!" he bellowed, his voice ricocheting off the walls like a gunshot. "Everyone, GET OUT!"

His staff didn’t need to be told twice. In seconds, the office emptied, leaving only Randolf standing amidst the wreckage.

But Duncan wasn’t done. His fury still burned, searing hot, demanding release. He grabbed the ceramic cup from his desk—his favorite one, a gift from a past deal sealed in blood and sweat—and launched it at the nearest wall. It exploded into jagged pieces, coffee stains dripping like battle scars down the pristine surface.

"Damnit!" he seethed, his breath ragged. His eyes locked onto Randolf, dark and wild. "You better have a damn good reason for letting that bastard go!"

Randolf, ever composed, didn’t flinch. Without a word, he handed over the document he had been holding.

Duncan snatched it, his eyes scanning the contents. Then, in a sudden burst of rage, he crumpled the paper and threw it to the ground.

"Fucking useless!" he spat. "One simple job, and they couldn’t even do it right!"

Randolf, hands in his pockets, exhaled slowly. "Gregory Cross won’t use this now... unless he wants something in return."

Duncan let out a humorless chuckle, shaking his head. "I know. He’s just trying to escape this mess and avoid prison time. That’s the only reason he played this card."

Running a hand through his hair, he stormed over to the sofa and jabbed the intercom button. "Bring me an ice pack," he ordered his secretary, his voice clipped and impatient.

Then, as if switching gears, he straightened his tie, exhaling sharply. "I’ll leave this to you, Randolf. I need to clean up—I have dinner with Annie’s father tonight."

Randolf simply nodded, watching as Duncan disappeared into his private lounge. Then, with a smirk, he turned on his heel and made his way to the elevator, rubbing his temple as an incoming headache threatened to set in.

’One problem after another,’ he mused, stepping inside and pressing the button for his floor. But then, his lips curled into something between amusement and greed.

’More money for me, then.’