Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 335: "We... we’re not right for each other."

Chapter 335: "We... we’re not right for each other."

"Calvin,"

Tiffany clutched the hem of her skirt tightly, her fingers digging into the fabric as an overwhelming sense of inadequacy surged within her.

She couldn’t meet his gaze, her voice barely above a whisper.

"We... we’re not right for each other."

What she really wanted to say was that she wasn’t good enough for Calvin.

But pride sealed her lips, the words lodged painfully in her throat.

Unseen, her nails bit into her palms, leaving crescent-shaped marks behind.

"Fine."

Calvin studied her in silence, his sharp eyes catching the faint redness at the corners of hers.

A bitter, self-mocking smile tugged at his lips, and the warmth in his gaze faded into something colder, darker.

"Got it."

Without another word, he turned the ignition, the engine roaring to life.

The car lurched forward, speeding down the road as his striking features hardened into an unreadable mask.

The drive passed in suffocating silence.

Not a single word was exchanged.

The air between them grew heavier, thick with unspoken regrets.

Taylor Family Estate.

"What?"

Melissa stared at Vicente in disbelief, her brows knitting tightly.

"You’re leaving?"

she asked, her voice tinged with surprise. "Where to?"

What she really wanted to ask was—*when will you be back?*

Leaning back in his seat, Taylor’s expression remained composed, though a faint crease flickered across his forehead.

*Is she reluctant to see him go?*

Vicente met Melissa’s gaze, resisting the urge to ruffle her hair. Instead, he softened his tone.

"I just need to handle some matters back home. I’ll return as soon as I can."

This was part of the agreement he had made with Taylor—the condition for being allowed close to Melissa.

"Oh."

Melissa pursed her lips, her dissatisfaction plain.

*Vincent just confessed his feelings, and now he’s leaving?*

No wonder people said it was easier to believe in ghosts than to trust a man’s sweet words.

Thank goodness she hadn’t been merciful enough to agree—that would have been disastrous.

"I’m tired.

I’m going to my room to rest, and no one better disturb me."

Melissa grew angrier the more she thought about it.

Abruptly, she pushed back her chair and stormed off with a dismissive flick of her wrist.

Taylor watched his sister’s retreating figure before shifting his gaze to the butler standing nearby, his eyes carrying a silent message.

The butler immediately understood, rising from his seat and heading toward the door.

A moment later, his voice echoed from outside.

"Miss Melissa—"

This was swiftly followed by Melissa’s petulant protest.

"I was just standing here thinking if I’d forgotten anything!

I wasn’t eavesdropping at all—you have to explain that to my brother!"

Leaning back in his chair, Taylor cast a knowing look at his friend, as if this were nothing out of the ordinary.

"You can still back out now."

"Adorable,"

Vicente murmured, the corners of his lips curling into a doting smile.

"If you can’t handle her, I can take her off your hands right now."

Taylor chuckled low in his throat but said nothing in return. Of course, Vicente was just joking.

Vicente knew all too well how precious Taylor held his younger sister.

"Stay safe on your way back," Taylor powered on his phone and steered the conversation to the main point.

"If you need any help, don’t hesitate to reach out."

Taylor was well aware of how dangerous that place could be.

Vicente to sever ties with that organization wouldn’t be easy.

Vicente lowered his gaze, his expression calm and unreadable.

"Got it."

Taylor parted his lips to speak, but before he could utter another word, his phone rang abruptly.

The name "Calvin" flashed across the screen.

"Hold on a second,"

Taylor gave Vicente a slight nod before answering the call.

Calvin’s lazy drawl drifted through the line.

"Coming out for a drink?"

"Since when do you have time for drinks?"

Taylor arched an eyebrow, a teasing smile playing on his lips.

"Shouldn’t you be busy with your *happily ever after*?"

The words struck Calvin like a dagger to the heart.

His chest tightened further.

Taking a deep drag from his cigarette, he glared at the apartment complex gate before him and grumbled,

"Cut the crap.

If you’re really my friend, come out and have a drink with me."

"No problem,"

Taylor replied, rarely seeing his usually composed friend in such a low state.

Calvin wasn’t about to miss the chance to enjoy the show.

"Meet at our usual spot in half an hour."

"Got it."

Calvin hung up the phone, his slender fingers—still holding a cigarette—extending out the car window.

Pale gray smoke curled from his refined lips and nose, dissipating into the wind.

Only after finishing the cigarette did he start the engine of the black Porsche and drive away.

In his foul mood, Calvin failed to notice the figure watching him through binoculars from a distant car.

The moment Calvin left, the observer immediately pulled out his phone.

"Sir, we’ve got a lead."

His gaze fixed on the residential complex where Tiffany lived, he relayed every detail of the situation.

On the other end of the line, Jonathan took a drag from his cigarette, his handsome, scholarly face darkening with intent.

"Seize the right moment and take her."

"I don’t care how you handle it, but there’s one thing—"

His icy gaze sharpened.

"That woman must know she’s being treated this way all because of that brat Calvin."

"Understood!"

The call ended, and Jonathan let out a cold snort. Anyone who ruined his plans would pay the price.

The thought of those people Calvin had sent to the Luther Family manor only worsened his foul mood.

Jonathan turned his head slightly, his eyes landing on the gaunt man standing before him.

"Any news from the manor?"

"Nothing," the thin man shook his head.

"Not a word since yesterday."

Frowning, he studied Jonathan’s expression.

"Sir, should we send someone to—"

"Idiot!"

Jonathan narrowed his eyes, cutting him off.

Jonathan took a slow drag from his cigarette, his face dark with irritation.

"Our previous moves have already raised the old man’s suspicions.

Any further action now would be like walking straight into a trap!"

"Yes, yes—my oversight," the gaunt man nodded repeatedly, his bony frame hunched in deference.

"So, sir, what should we do now?"

"Continue operations where necessary," Jonathan replied, his gaze fixed on some distant point, his eyes dark and brooding.

"As for the manor... we’ll wait and see."

The gaunt man didn’t dare say another word, merely nodding in agreement. Meanwhile, elsewhere.

"What did you say?"

Antonio turned sharply toward his assistant, his handsome face twisting into an uncharacteristic scowl.

"Another faction is watching Tiffany?"

The assistant gave a solemn nod.

Tiffany was an innocent soul, her social circle uncomplicated—hardly the type to make enemies.

Whoever was targeting her had to have ulterior motives.

Antonio remained silent, his brow furrowing slightly.

Was it because of Calvin, or... Camilla?

Whichever it was, he couldn’t allow this sudden interference to derail his carefully laid plans.

"Keep a close eye on them," he said in a low voice, snapping the medical file in his hand shut.

"Report any unusual activity to me immediately."

"Understood," his assistant replied, grasping the urgency in his tone.

As for whether to play along or intervene directly— Antonio narrowed his eyes thoughtfully, picking up a pair of rubber gloves and slipping them on.

That would depend on how things unfolded.