Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 312: Camilla put sleeping pills in Sinclair’s Milk

Chapter 312: Camilla put sleeping pills in Sinclair’s Milk

"Madam,"

Ramsey gave Camilla a slight nod.

"Busy?"

Camilla nodded in response and paused in her steps.

"Am I interrupting?"

"Not at all,"

Sinclair’s dark eyes softened as they rested on Camilla, though they took on a more inscrutable edge when he turned to Ramsey.

"You may leave."

"Yes, sir."

Catching his boss’s unspoken command, Ramsey’s footsteps grew noticeably heavier as he exited.

The study was now occupied solely by Sinclair and Camilla.

"Camilla,"

Sinclair tilted his head back slightly, his deep, penetrating gaze fixed on her.

"Come sit with me."

Sinclair was referring to his slightly parted long legs.

His voice was deep and husky, smooth as velvet.

Camilla’s lips curved into a faint smile, her dimples appearing at the corners, making her look exceptionally sweet and tender.

"I’ll sit later," she said, setting the glass of milk in her hand.

Instead of settling into Sinclair’s lap, she moved behind him and began massaging his shoulders and neck.

"You’ve been working all night.

Let me help you relax first."

The muscles in his shoulders and neck were tense, so Camilla deliberately applied a bit more pressure to ease the stiffness.

"Hubby, how about resting early tonight?"

Her soft voice whispered near Sinclair’s ear.

"Alright," he replied, his slender, well-defined fingers gently covering her delicate hand on his shoulder.

His thin lips curled slightly.

"Stop for now." Camilla froze mid-motion, her delicate brows furrowing.

"What’s wrong? Does it hurt?"

"It feels great, but—"

Sinclair gently pulled Camilla from behind into his embrace, settling her onto his lap.

His thin lips brushed against her hand in a tender kiss.

"I don’t want you to tire yourself out," he murmured, his deep voice laced with unmistakable adoration.

"How could I ever?"

Camilla looped her arms around his neck, pressing her forehead against his.

Her voice was soft, almost whisper-like.

"Everything I do for you, I do willingly.

And when it’s done with love, it never feels like a burden."

Sinclair’s grip around her waist tightened slightly.

"Oh, I almost forgot," Camilla suddenly remembered, her eyes crinkling into crescents as she smiled.

"I warmed some milk for you.

It’ll get cold if you don’t drink it soon."

With that, she turned slightly to retrieve the cup of milk resting nearby and brought it to his lips.

"Once you finish, we can head to bed," she said, though a faint tension lingered in the depths of her gaze.

"Alright,"

Sinclair replied, tilting his head to drain the cup in one go, his lips never leaving her guiding hand.

Seeing this, Camilla secretly breathed a sigh of relief in her heart.

Sinclair carried Camilla back to the room and gently placed her on the sofa.

"Camilla," Sinclair gazed down at her, his deep, husky voice soft yet intense.

"I love you."

Camilla looked into the handsome face so close to hers and responded without hesitation.

"Me too."

Sinclair said nothing more.

His long, elegant fingers lightly traced her cheek before he leaned in and kissed her.

Camilla wrapped her arms around him, returning the kiss tenderly.

Their bodies sank deeper into the plush sofa.

Two hours later, the room finally fell silent.

Sinclair pulled the freshly showered Camilla into his embrace, pressing a gentle kiss to her forehead.

"Goodnight, baby."

His voice was low and rough, laced with lingering affection.

Camilla’s long lashes fluttered slightly as she lowered her gaze.

"Goodnight, honey."

As the night deepened, the room fell into complete silence.

Before long, hearing the steady breathing behind her, Camilla finally turned over cautiously.

Bathed in the dim glow of the bedside lamp, she gazed at the man’s strikingly handsome yet stern features and whispered softly,

"Sweetheart..."

"Sweetheart?"

Camilla called out tentatively.

The man who was usually a light sleeper didn’t respond this time.

Her lightly furrowed brows gradually relaxed as she reached out to gently caress his sharply defined face.

"I’m sorry."

She knew all too well—if Sinclair found out about the life-linked poison, he would never allow it.

Just to be safe, she had slipped a sleeping pill into the warm milk she prepared for him.

By the time he woke up, everything should be more or less resolved.

Moving carefully, Camilla slipped out of bed.

After tucking Sinclair in, she dressed quietly and left the room.

As she headed toward the basement, Ramsey suddenly appeared, blocking her path with an uneasy expression.

"Madam, are you... going to the backyard?"

Ramsey had clearly seen Luke leading Miss Iris and the others inside earlier.

Knowing it was the madam’s arrangement, he hadn’t approached to question or stop them.

"What about it?"

Camilla gazed at Ramsey, her dark eyes as unfathomable as mist-shrouded abyss.

"Did Sinclair order you to stop me?"

Ramsey met her gaze, then nodded slowly with visible reluctance.

"...Yes."

Otherwise, he wouldn’t dare.

Sinclair was clearly not someone easily fooled.

Camilla pressed her crimson lips together, her eyes gleaming with understanding.

"I’ll explain everything to Sinclair myself when he wakes up.

You won’t be blamed."

With that, she moved to step past him.

Yet Ramsey shifted again, blocking her path, his voice strained but firm.

"Madam, President Luther gave me strict orders this time."

No amount of pleading would change that. "Ramsey."

Camilla’s beautiful eyes turned icy as they narrowed on him.

"So you’re saying you absolutely won’t let me pass today?"

The voice was soft and cool, yet devoid of any warmth.

Ramsey met Camilla’s icy gaze, and his heart gave a jolt.

Madam had always been exceedingly gentle with her own people—never before had she worn such a stern, frosty expression.

Instantly, he thought of his boss and immediately shook his head in frantic denial.

"No, of course not," Ramsey said, his face dark with despair, nearly on the verge of tears.

"What I meant was—just have Luke knock me out right now."

If he were unconscious, he naturally wouldn’t know where the Madam was going.

Surely then, President Luther couldn’t blame him, could he?

"Not a bad suggestion,"

Camilla replied, her delicate face betraying no emotion as she spoke calmly.

"But there’s no need for Luke."

Ramsey frowned, momentarily confused.

"What?"

Camilla didn’t answer.

Instead, she reached out and pressed a precise point on his neck.

Ramsey’s expression froze on his face as his tall frame crumpled limply to the ground.

Camilla steadied him briefly before turning her gaze to the servants waiting outside.

"You two, help him onto the sofa."

The servants stared in shock at the unconscious assistant—someone they knew was highly skilled in combat—now knocked out cold by their mistress.

A flicker of wariness crept into their eyes as they regarded Camilla.

They knew exactly how capable Ramsey was.

Yet their mistress had taken him down effortlessly?

Camilla had no time to dwell on their reactions.

She strode toward the rear courtyard without another word.

Outside the specially designated medical room, Luke stood guard with a team of mercenaries.

"Madam Camilla gave a brief nod and moved to enter.

"Madam," Luke spoke again, his expression grave.

"What if the CEO finds out and we can’t stop him?"

Stopping him was one thing—daring to try was another.

The mercenaries beside him pressed their lips into tight lines, their unblinking gazes fixed on Camilla.

This was their greatest concern.