My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge
Chapter 274: Choose Me

Chapter 274: Choose Me

Cammy’s heart pounded in her chest as she stared into his eyes. Her world was spinning—guilt, love, shame, hope—all crashing into each other like waves in a storm.

Greg reached for her hand again, gentler this time. "You don’t owe Ric your life just because he tried to protect you. He knew what he was doing; that was his choice. You owe yourself the chance to be happy. To choose. So I’m asking you, Cammy. This time... choose me."

Cammy drew in a deep, trembling breath and closed her eyes. For a moment, the world fell away. She reached into the whirlwind within her, where guilt twisted with fear, and love warred with duty. She peeled each layer back until she found the truth buried beneath it all... what she truly wanted.

When she opened her eyes, there was no more hesitation.

She turned to Greg and looked into his eyes, searching... and then smiling—a radiant, unguarded smile that bloomed slowly until it reached the corners of her eyes and spread across her face like sunshine breaking through storm clouds.

Greg’s breath hitched. Her smile was like a balm to his worn-out soul.

"It’s you, Greg," Cammy whispered, her voice unwavering now, strong and clear. "I choose you."

She tilted her head playfully, and her smile grew even wider—unstoppable, beautiful, real.

Greg stared at her for a second, as if trying to process her words. Then the dam broke.

"Oh my God—thank you! Thank you!" he blurted out, his voice cracking with emotion as he lunged forward and wrapped his arms around her, pulling her into a tight, overwhelming embrace.

Cammy let out a soft laugh, muffled by his chest, as she hugged him back with all the strength she had.

But their moment was suddenly shattered.

"Get off her! Get off that bed right now!" a sharp, commanding voice rang out from the doorway.

They both froze.

Andrea, the housekeeper, and Edward, the butler, stood there, arms crossed, faces tight with disapproval. Andrea marched in like a drill sergeant on a mission, glaring at Greg.

"The patient is on bed rest, young man! Bed. Rest. Not wrestling! You’re going to bounce the poor baby out of her womb if you keep shaking the mattress like that!"

She didn’t wait for Greg to respond—she grabbed his arm and pulled him off the bed with surprising strength for a woman half his size.

Edward stepped forward with his usual calm but dry tone. "We turned the house upside down to prepare for the madam’s return... only to find the master here nearly squashing her. Typical."

The room erupted in laughter—Cammy covering her mouth to suppress her giggles, Greg raising his hands in surrender, and Andrea swatting at him with a pillow she snatched from a nearby chair.

"Okay, okay! I surrender!" Greg said, grinning ear to ear, his cheeks flushed.

But beneath the laughter, under the playful scolding, the truth pulsed quietly between them—solid, unbreakable, and real. Cammy had chosen him. And Greg would carry that moment like a shield through every battle that was still to come.

"What in the world are you two doing here?" Cammy asked, her brows furrowing as Andrea gently guided her to lie back down, plumping her pillows and fussing over the blanket like a seasoned nurse.

Andrea huffed, brushing a strand of hair from Cammy’s forehead with motherly precision. "What does it look like? I’m taking over. From now on, I’ll be the one taking care of you. Greg here would only drive your blood pressure up with his pacing and panic attacks. Honestly, he’s a walking stress bomb. Definitely not caregiver material."

Before Cammy could react, Edward chimed in, adjusting his cufflinks with his usual crisp grace. "And I, dear madam, have come to perform a necessary extraction.

Gregory refuses to leave your side and has practically declared squatters’ rights on your hospital room. So I’ve taken it upon myself to drag him out—by force if I must."

Cammy couldn’t help but chuckle, even as Greg shot them both an exaggerated glare and crossed his arms like a sulking teenager. "Unbelievable," he muttered.

"They’re right, Greg," Cammy said between soft giggles. "Andrea’s here now, I’ll be in the best possible hands. You don’t need to worry."

Greg opened his mouth to argue, but Cammy gently placed her hand on his. "Look, you’ve got important things to do—urgent things. Like registering our marriage, for example," she said with a sly smile.

"But you’re important too," Greg countered, his voice low and earnest. "The most important."

Cammy squeezed his hand. "I know. And I love that you want to stay. But right now, what I really need is rest. That’s all I’m allowed to do—sleep, eat, stare at a screen, and repeat.

Your hovering, while sweet, won’t speed up my healing. So go handle the world for us, and come back to me every night. Be here for dinner every single evening. That’s all I ask."

Greg sighed, staring at her like he wanted to fight it, but finally, he dropped his arms to his sides, nodding with a small smile. "Alright. I’ll go... after dinner. But tomorrow—and every day after—I’m coming back. I’m claiming that chair," he said, pointing dramatically to the lounge seat beside her bed.

"Deal," Cammy whispered, her smile warm and content as she reached for his hand again.

Andrea gave Greg a victorious smirk, while Edward checked his watch and stepped behind him like a security escort ready to haul him out.

After dinner, as promised—though reluctantly—Greg stood up from Cammy’s bedside. He leaned down, kissed her gently on the forehead, and whispered, "I’ll be back before you know it. And I swear to you, you are never stepping foot in that prison again."

Edward, standing by the door like a soldier ready to escort his commander, gave Cammy a warm smile and a respectful nod. "Rest well, Miss Cammy. The cavalry’s on the move."

With one last glance, Greg followed Edward out of the room.

Downstairs, the hospital lobby buzzed with muted chaos—doctors hurrying past, phones ringing, quiet conversations between nurses—but all of that blurred the moment Greg spotted Grace and Harry standing near the main entrance, their expressions bright, eyes gleaming with purpose.

Greg’s brow furrowed slightly. "You two look like you’ve just won the lottery."

Harry smirked and crossed his arms. "Not quite. But close."

Grace stepped forward, her heels clicking sharply on the marble floor, her coat flaring like a cape behind her. "Let’s just say your month-long exile abroad has finally paid off."

Greg tilted his head, curious. "What do you mean?"

Grace leaned in with a grin that practically radiated victory. "Let’s not talk here. Too many ears. Come on—we’ll talk at your place. You’re going to want a drink for this one."

Greg exchanged a look with Edward, who raised a brow with silent intrigue. Whatever Grace had discovered, it wasn’t just good news—it was something game-changing.

Greg nodded. "Alright. Let’s go. But Grace..."—his voice dropped, full of fire and quiet desperation—"If this is something that can finally free Cammy for good, I don’t care what it takes. I’m all in."

Grace gave him a confident smile and tapped his chest. "Good. Because we’re going to finish this. Once and for all."