My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge
Chapter 268: No One Is Coming

Chapter 268: No One Is Coming

A week later...

The clinking of keys echoed through the corridor of the detention center as the guard unlocked the visitation room.

Cammy sat alone behind the scratched plexiglass window, her eyes hollow, her skin paler than it used to be. Her fingers were tightly interlocked on the metal table, knuckles white from the pressure.

She hadn’t cried since that day—she’d used up all her tears watching Dylan being pulled away, screaming for her with arms outstretched as the doors of the police cruiser slammed shut between them.

When the door opened again, Cammy’s eyes flicked up. Atty. Grace Perez stepped in, her high heels clicking against the cold concrete floor. Her face was serious—too serious. She wasn’t here with a miracle.

Cammy stood up quickly, her voice dry and shaky. "Atty. Grace... please tell me you have good news."

Grace sat down with a tired sigh, placing a thick folder on the table in front of her. Her eyes met Cammy’s, but her silence was louder than anything.

"I’m sorry, Cammy. I really wish I did."

Cammy’s shoulders dropped as she slowly took her seat again. Her heart sank, and the hollow ache in her chest deepened. "Tell me everything."

Grace opened the folder but didn’t look down. "You broke the court’s custody ruling, Cammy. That’s serious. Duncan’s legal team has filed an official case of kidnapping against both you and Ric. The judge isn’t happy. This isn’t just family drama anymore—it’s a criminal case."

Cammy’s breath hitched. She closed her eyes, willing herself not to cry again. "How’s Ric? Did he... is he okay?"

Grace looked down for a moment before answering. "He’s hanging in there. He’s being held at a different facility. But... all his sponsors have backed out. Investors pulled their funding. The media’s already running stories. His restaurants are taking a massive hit."

Cammy blinked rapidly, her voice breaking, "Oh God... this is all my fault. I dragged him into this. He didn’t even hesitate, Grace. He helped me because I was desperate."

Grace reached out and squeezed her hand gently through the slot beneath the plexiglass. "He knew what he was doing. He made a choice. Just like you did."

Cammy nodded slowly, breathing shakily as she stared at her reflection in the glass. "And Dylan...?"

Grace looked at her with eyes full of pity. "Cammy... Dylan’s leaving the country next week. Duncan’s sending him to a boarding school in London."

"What?!" Cammy’s voice shot through the room like a gunshot. Her whole body lurched forward, hands slamming against the metal table. "No! No, he can’t do that! He can’t take Dylan away from me—he can’t!"

Grace tried to calm her, but Cammy was already crying. Violently. Her sobs cracked through the silence of the room, her shoulders trembling as her hands clawed at her own chest.

"I’m sorry. I tried to negotiate. I tried to stall. But Duncan filed all the paperwork. Dylan’s enrollment has already been accepted. The school is one of the most prestigious in the world, where royalty and heads of state send their children.

Cammy, I know this is painful, but try to see it as an opportunity for Dylan. He’ll be safe, he’ll be getting the best education—"

"That’s not the point!" Cammy cried, slamming her fists on the table, not caring who heard. "We could’ve talked about it. I would’ve agreed. We could’ve prepared Dylan together. Not like this... not after he saw me taken away in handcuffs!"

Her chest heaved with every breath, tears soaking her cheeks. "That image... that trauma will never leave his mind. I saw it in his eyes. He was terrified, Grace.

And now... now he’ll be all alone in a foreign country. No one to hold him when he cries at night. No one to tell him it’s going to be okay."

Grace’s voice softened. "I know... I know. But we have to focus on getting you out of here first. I’m doing everything I can. I’m going to push for a parole—"

"How can I be a mother to him now?" Cammy whispered, her voice shattered. "I was the one who lost control. I was the one who got... insane. I tried to hide him away like a fugitive. What kind of mother does that?"

"A mother who loves her son more than anything in the world," Grace said firmly. "Cammy, you’re not a criminal. You’re a mother who made a desperate decision. But the law needs to be followed. You’ve made mistakes, but that doesn’t make you unworthy.

We can fix this. I just need you to stay calm, behave well, and let me fight for your parole. You could be out in a few weeks. But only if you don’t do anything that could worsen your case."

A knock came on the other side of the wall. The police officer tapped the glass, signaling the end of visitation.

Grace stood and packed the folder back into her bag. "I’ll come back as soon as I have updates. Just hold on, Cammy. For Dylan. Don’t give up."

Cammy nodded, her hands trembling, her lips pale. "Thank you, Grace... thank you for not giving up on me."

The door opened, and the officer gestured for her to follow. As Cammy stood, she looked over her shoulder one last time.

"Tell Dylan..." her voice cracked, "...tell him Mommy didn’t mean to scare him. Tell him I love him more than anything in the world."

Grace’s eyes glistened. "I will."

And then the door shut behind Cammy, leaving the weight of silence to fall again.

Grace stepped out of the detention center and into the parking lot. She paused by her car, letting the weight of the visit settle over her. Cammy’s tear-streaked face haunted her mind, the echo of her trembling voice still ringing in her ears.

With a deep breath, she pulled out her phone and scrolled through her contacts until she reached Greg. She hesitated for a moment, thumb hovering over the screen, then pressed the dial.

It rang twice before his voice came through—low, smooth, distant. [Grace.]

"Greg," she said gently, opening the car door and sliding into the driver’s seat. "Do you have a minute?"

[I’m boarding in thirty. Make it quick. What’s going on? Is it Cammy?]

Grace sighed. "Yes. I just visited her."

There was a beat of silence on the other end. Then, [How is she?]

"She’s holding on," Grace said, her voice softening. "But Greg... she doesn’t look good. She’s not eating much. She’s not sleeping. Her spirit’s—" she exhaled hard, choosing her words carefully, "—fading. She’s barely keeping herself together."

Greg said nothing. All Grace could hear was the distant bustle of an airport terminal behind him—muffled announcements, suitcase wheels, people chattering.

"She’s blaming herself for everything," Grace continued. "For Ric’s downfall. For traumatizing Dylan. For destroying her own life. She’s breaking, Greg. And I think... maybe if she sees you—just once—it might help her find a reason to fight."

There was a sharp inhale on the other end. Then Greg’s voice, clipped and cold: [No. I can’t do that.]

Grace blinked. "Greg—"

[I don’t want to see her,] he said firmly. [Not anymore.]

Grace’s brows furrowed. "Why? You two were inseparable for years. She loved you. You loved her. You are family, if not lovers anymore. She’s now your sister."

[Exactly,] Greg snapped. [And from what I heard, our father is doing everything to help her as well.]

"She did it for Dylan," Grace countered. "You know that."

[Yes,] Greg replied. [And now look where Dylan is. He’s going to be raised by Duncan and that manipulative fiancée of his. And Cammy is rotting in jail. So tell me, Grace—did love really win this time?]

His voice cracked at the edges, and Grace knew. This wasn’t just anger. It was pain. A deep, unresolved ache that he hadn’t yet found the strength to confront.

"She’s not asking for you to fix anything," Grace said quietly. "Just... to show her she’s not alone."

There was a long pause. Grace could hear his breathing, steady but tight. Then, almost in a whisper:

[I can’t, Grace. If I see her now... I don’t know what I’ll say. And I don’t trust myself.]

And with that, the line went dead.

Grace stared at the phone in her hand for a long time before finally lowering it. She leaned back against the headrest, exhaustion creeping into her bones.

’No one is coming to save her,’ she thought bitterly.

Then she started the car.

If no one else would stand by Cammy now—she would.