Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire
Chapter 389: Following instructions

Chapter 389: Following instructions

It’ll help take his mind off things and lift his spirits."

Carrie Ann had been taking the herbal prescription she prepared for a while now—she wondered how effective it had been.

But everything would have to wait until she returned with Fany.

Being around innocent, cheerful children had a way of easing one’s worries.

Uncle Carlos understood Camilla’s intention immediately and nodded.

"I’ll arrange for someone right away."

"These past few days, I’ve been putting a lot on your shoulders, Uncle Carlos," Camilla said, glancing at the time.

"If anything comes up that’s difficult to handle, just leave it until we return."

Uncle Carlos knew Sinclair and Camilla were leaving the country, but he assumed the young couple simply needed a break after everything they’d been through.

Uncle Carlos didn’t press for details.

"Understood."

After leaving the prescription behind, Camilla headed straight from the old estate to the address Antonio had provided.

This time, she went alone—no one accompanied her.

"Madam has already set off.

Stay sharp, everyone not a single moment of slackness is allowed."

Luke’s expression was grave as he watched the moving coordinates on the screen, his fingers tightening around the earpiece of his communication device.

His voice was steel.

"If anything goes wrong, I’ll hold every one of you accountable."

"Understood."

Meanwhile, aboard the flight to Country E...

Sinclair had just learned the full details of the call between Antonio and Camilla.

"President Luther," Ramsey frowned slightly, unable to mask his confusion as he looked at his boss.

"If both Antonio and Miss Tiffany are already in Country E, why would he make such a demand of Madam?"

Why, indeed?

Sinclair toyed with the obsidian ring on his finger, his thin lips curling into an inscrutable smile.

"Just a smokescreen to shake off the Luther Family’s influence.

His endgame hasn’t changed.

What we need to do is strike first."

His voice was low and measured, carrying the weight of absolute control—reassuring in its certainty.

By the time Camilla arrived at the gates of San Francisco High School, students were already pouring out in waves.

People and vehicles streamed endlessly past the school gate, an uncountable tide.

Anyone could easily disappear into such a crowd.

Camilla’s eyes darkened as realization struck—this was exactly why Antonio had chosen this place.

Antonio’s trying to shake off the people protecting me.

Luke and the others had noticed it too, their jaws tightening in silent frustration.

That bastard’s cunning. Good thing we came prepared.

As Camilla scanned her surroundings, her phone buzzed from inside her bag.

Without hesitation, she answered.

"Mrs. Luther, the agreed time is up."

This time, it wasn’t Antonio’s voice—but a rough, unfamiliar male voice.

"I’m already at the school gate," Camilla replied, her tone icy and flat.

"Where are you? With this many people, how am I supposed to find you?"

"We’ll find *you*," the man said, his voice low and deliberate.

"Please put down your phone and exit the vehicle within three minutes.

Stand by the phone booth on the right side of the road."

The call ended abruptly before Camilla could respond.

She quickly assessed the location of the phone booth and sent a brief message to Luke and Ramsey.

Then, setting her phone aside, she stepped out of the car as instructed.

Standing in front of the phone booth, Camilla scanned the passing crowd with a guarded expression, her dark eyes sharp and observant.

Before long, a little girl around five or six years old, dressed in a school uniform, came running toward her.

"Miss," the girl said, pressing a folded note and a car key into Camilla’s palm while clutching a handful of lollipops in her other hand.

"A man asked me to give this to you."

Using a child as a messenger?

Antonio was far more cautious than she had anticipated.

But this also revealed just how wary he was of the Luther Family’s influence.

Camilla’s long, thick lashes fluttered slightly, her eyes icy with suppressed fury.

Yet her face remained gentle as she smiled at the little girl.

"Got it.

Thank you."

"You’re welcome," The little girl skipped away happily, clutching her candy.

Camilla lowered her gaze and unfolded the note.

"Take the third black Jeep parked ahead of you. License plate number..."

Her lips pressed into a thin line.

She crumpled the note and tossed it into the trash before striding toward the designated vehicle.

Pulling open the driver’s door, she found the seat empty—only a sleek black phone glowing on the dashboard.

The screen displayed a navigation route leading to another address.

The destination pointed toward the most remote outskirts of San Francisco.

Without a flicker of hesitation, Camilla started the engine and sped off.

The closer she got, the more desolate the surroundings became.

The narrow road stretched empty, her Jeep the only vehicle in sight.

Anyone following her would stick out like a sore thumb.

Clearly, this was deliberate.

Over an hour later, the black Jeep rolled to a stop outside an abandoned munitions factory.

Two men stationed at the entrance immediately stepped forward.

"Madam Luther, please step out of the car."

Camilla’s gaze lingered for a moment before she silently opened the door and exited.

One of the men led the way while the other followed closely behind her.

As the imposing gates loomed nearer, obscuring whatever lay beyond, a flicker of icy resolve flashed through her eyes.

Suddenly, her foot caught on an uneven patch of ground.

Instinctively, she grabbed one man’s sleeve to steady herself.

Neither guard seemed surprised—after all, it would be unnatural for a woman not to show fear under such circumstances.

"Ms Camilla," one reassured her, "we have strict orders not to harm you.

Please, come inside."

Without acknowledging them or responding, Camilla strode straight into the munitions factory.

Inside, five or six identical jeeps were parked in formation, flanked by seven or eight burly men standing at attention.

At their forefront stood a stern-faced middle-aged man.

Camilla met his gaze unflinchingly, her expression cool and composed.

"Now," she said evenly, "will you take me to Antonio?"

"Of course," The middle-aged man fixed Camilla with a piercing gaze, though his tone remained courteous.

"However, before we proceed, there’s one more thing we’ll need Madam Luther’s cooperation with."

Camilla frowned slightly, waiting for him to continue.

The man tilted his head toward a baseball-capped figure beside him, exchanging a meaningful glance.

Immediately understanding, the other man stepped forward with an electronic signal detector in hand, approaching Camilla.

She stood rooted in place, pressing her lips together as a flicker of panic crossed her delicate, porcelain-like face.

The middle-aged man observed her reaction closely, his eyes narrowing.

The detector swept methodically through the air around Camilla’s body, inch by inch—until it reached her hair.

Suddenly, a sharp alarm blared. In an instant, the atmosphere in the room turned icy.

The middle-aged man’s voice was cold as he addressed her, watching her flustered expression.

"Madam Luther, hand over the tracking device."

Just as Mr. Antonio had suspected.

Her face drained of color, Camilla reluctantly retrieved the hairpin concealing the tracker and passed it to the inspecting man.

The man took it, scrutinized it briefly, then tossed it to his superior.

Meanwhile, he ran the detector over Camilla once more, meticulously ensuring nothing else was hidden.

This time, everything appeared normal.

Calvin gave a slight nod to the middle-aged man behind him.

"With this tracker, the Luther Family will be here soon.

We need to move fast."

As he spoke, the middle-aged man handed a pitch-black blindfold to Camilla.

"Mrs. Luther, if you please."

Camilla still seemed dazed, her hands trembling slightly as she took the blindfold and secured it over her eyes.

The next moment, someone stepped forward, gripped her arm, and guided her into the waiting vehicle.

Several jeeps roared to life in unison, leaving the abandoned munitions factory behind as they scattered in different directions.

Inside the car, Camilla sat with her head bowed, silent.

The men around her assumed she was paralyzed with fear—none of them noticed the fleeting smirk that flickered at the corner of her lips before vanishing.