My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge
Chapter 258: Under the Palm Tree

Chapter 258: Under the Palm Tree

The days slipped by in a blur of preparations and emotions, and before Cammy could even catch her breath, the morning sun rose on her wedding day.

A soft, golden light spilled through the windows where Cammy sat in front of the vanity, her eyes locked on her reflection as the hairdresser worked her curls into a loose, elegant updo.

Down the hill in Felicity’s sprawling villa, Ric’s uncle and cousin had arrived the night before—stoic, formal, and perfectly in sync with Ric’s world.

Monica had arrived just hours later, tension clinging to her shoulders like a heavy cloak.

"Are you absolutely sure you didn’t say anything to Dad? Not even a hint?" Cammy asked, breaking the silence, her voice painted with a thread of anxious urgency.

Monica, seated on the small sofa by the window, crossed her arms and gave her daughter a hard look. "Cammy, I said I wouldn’t. I’m not about to send your father into another cardiac episode just because he finds out he’s not your real father. We agreed, remember? You’ll tell him when you’re ready. Besides... he’s miles away. He won’t know anything."

Cammy let out a long sigh, her gaze returning to the mirror. Her reflection stared back—strong, but not unshaken. "It’s just... I hate keeping it from him. I know it will break his heart. But I also know it will destroy him to find out like this."

There was a beat of silence.

"Have you spoken to Richard?" she asked finally, her voice softening. "Ellie said he got here early this morning."

Monica stiffened. "No. And I don’t plan to."

Cammy turned her head slightly, frowning. "Mom..."

"What do you want me to say, Cammy? That I want to take a trip down memory lane with the man whom I almost shared my life with? I have nothing to say to him."

"You don’t have to relive the past," Cammy said gently. "I just want today to be peaceful. Please... you’re both walking me down the aisle. I don’t want tension or sharp looks while I’m holding both your arms."

Monica let out a sharp exhale and rolled her eyes. Cammy knew that look—it meant ’drop it before I explode’. So, she did.

But the universe had its own sense of timing.

A knock sounded at the door.

Cammy already knew.

The hairdresser paused. Monica turned her head like a cat sensing danger. The door creaked open and in stepped Richard, looking slightly uncomfortable in his pressed linen shirt, but with a tender smile on his face.

"How’s my daughter doing?" he asked, voice calm, but eyes searching.

Cammy gave him a faint, polite smile. "Doing fine."

He took a step closer, his gaze falling on her half-done hair, the pale ivory dress hanging nearby, and the slight tremble in her fingers. "You nervous?"

Cammy let out a soft laugh, the sound a little hollow. "Not really. It’s not my first wedding, so maybe that’s why."

Richard looked at her for a moment—really looked—and Cammy could feel the weight of everything he wasn’t saying pressing between them.

Monica stood, arms crossed like a shield. She didn’t say a word, didn’t even greet him. The tension was tangible, a thread stretched to its breaking point.

Richard didn’t flinch. He simply looked between the two women and nodded slowly. "Well... I’ll leave you to finish getting ready. I’ll see you outside when it’s time."

As he turned and walked away, the air in the room thickened with silence once more. Cammy let out a shaky breath and looked at her mother.

"Please, Mom... just today. No more wars."

Monica didn’t answer right away. But this time, she didn’t roll her eyes.

Soon, the music started—soft, lilting notes of a string quartet rising gently into the tropical air, blending with the quiet hush of waves crashing just beyond the garden walls of the Pearl Resort’s event hall.

The aisle was draped in soft ivory fabric and flanked by wildflowers in blush and cream, the scent of orchids and jasmine carried by the sea breeze.

Cammy held tightly onto the arms of both Richard and Monica, her bouquet trembling slightly in her hands.

The guest list had been small by design—only fifty people, each one carefully chosen. No spectacle. No press. Just the people who mattered.

It should have made her feel calm, shielded from the chaos of her past. And yet, her chest felt heavy as she took her first step forward.

Her eyes rose to meet Ric’s, standing tall at the far end of the aisle. He looked heartbreakingly handsome in his gray tuxedo, his dark hair tousled just the way she liked.

But it was the expression on his face that unraveled her—his lips pressed together, his eyes glossy with unshed tears, his whole being trembling with the effort to stay composed.

Cammy hadn’t expected him to cry.

She smiled through the warmth rising behind her eyes, the emotion catching her off guard. Her footsteps slowed slightly, as if wanting to take in every moment and hold onto it forever.

But just as she was about to take the final stretch, her gaze flicked outward—past the softly lit floral arches, beyond the quiet seated guests, toward the trees that surrounded the open event hall.

And there, partially hidden in the shade of a palm tree, stood a figure she knew all too well.

Her breath hitched.

He was trying to remain unseen, but she would recognize that stance, that face, anywhere.

’What is he doing here? Wasn’t he supposed to be overseas for the trials?’ she asked herself.

It was Greg...

Cammy’s steps faltered. A tear slid down her cheek, unbidden.

Monica and Richard exchanged a glance, unaware of what had shifted inside her. Thinking that she was just emotional after seeing Ric cry, Monica handed her some tissues.

Cammy quickly blinked and forced herself to continue walking, the world turning into a blur of motion and sound.

Her heart pounded, her mind reeling.

Somehow, she knew, she could feel his presence, she couldn’t explain it, but she knew, and he came.

And even as Ric waited for her with love written in every line of his face, Cammy’s heart cracked open just a little wider than it already is.