My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 235: Family Meeting

"Don’t worry, it’s just processing the necessary documents and badges since you are my assistant, and you will go with me whenever I work there," Greg said.

Cammy let out a long, quiet sigh—one she didn’t even realize she’d been holding in. Greg noticed instantly. Of course he did. He always did.

He turned toward her, his voice low and calm, but covered with something deeper—something unreadable.

"You don’t have to worry," he said. "I haven’t told my father anything. That part’s yours to say—your story, your terms. But he wants everyone present at dinner tonight. No exceptions. Once we’re done at Cross Holdings, we’re heading straight to the mansion."

The words hit like a sudden gust of wind, knocking her off balance.

Cammy blinked, frowning. "Wait—going straight there? You didn’t tell me we were going there after."

"It was decided last night," Greg replied coolly, as if it were a trivial thing. "There was no time to—"

"Greg, I... I have to adjust that," Cammy cut in, her voice calm but firm. "I promised Dylan I’d bring home Korean fried chicken—his favorite, from that little shop near the plaza. I can’t just show up empty-handed. He’s been waiting."

Greg tilted his head slightly, the edge of disappointment flickering in his eyes before he masked it. "Alright," he said, lowering himself into the leather chair behind his desk. "I’ll drive you. We’ll make a quick stop, then go."

He reached for the phone, already preparing to rearrange things—until he heard her soft, hesitant grunt.

"Uhm..."

His hand froze mid-reach.

Greg looked up at her, waiting. Tension crackled in the silence.

Cammy took a breath. "Ric is picking me up here. He’ll bring the chicken. We’re going to the mansion together after we drop off the chicken at my apartment... I will introduce him to Richard after I show him our contract, just like we discussed."

There was a long pause. Heavy. Measured. Then Greg slowly leaned back in his chair, exhaling hard.

"I see." His voice had gone colder now—clipped, restrained. "Do what you need to do. I’ll see you at the meeting."

Then he turned away from her, his face a careful mask of indifference as he started dialing numbers, his fingers moving with mechanical precision.

But Cammy didn’t move. She stood there, watching him.

Because, despite the wall he had just rebuilt between them—solid, fortified—she saw it. In his eyes. That flicker of something raw and aching. The pain he refused to name. The love he was still trying, and failing, to bury.

She bit her lip, chest tightening. The air between them was thick with everything unspoken.

Still, she turned and walked out.

Because tonight, everything would change.

**********

The late afternoon sun bathed the city in a golden haze as Ric’s sleek black car pulled away from Cammy’s apartment building.

Behind them, the comforting scent of Korean fried chicken lingered faintly in the air—a small offering of peace and promise left for Dylan and the two ladies holding down the fort.

Eve and Cassey had insisted on staying with him, their voices cheerful over the phone. Dylan had lit up at the idea—especially when he learned that Cassey was bringing over her colored pens for homework time.

It was enough to give Cammy a fleeting moment of calm.

Just enough to steel herself for what was coming.

The city blurred past the windows as they headed toward the Cross estate, its looming silhouette still miles away but already casting a shadow over her thoughts.

Ric glanced sideways at her, his hands steady on the wheel. "Are you sure you’re ready for this? We don’t have to do it tonight. I mean... we could push it back a few days. Next week, maybe. Just say the word."

Cammy shook her head slowly, her eyes locked on the road ahead like a soldier walking into enemy territory. "No. I don’t want to postpone anything."

She folded her hands tightly in her lap, the words coming out low, clipped, but unwavering.

"Dylan’s cast comes off in two weeks. That means Duncan will come for him—just like the court ordered. And once that happens, I lose my grip on the little time I have left with my son. If I wait too long, if I hesitate now... I might never get him back."

Ric’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing. He understood. He always did.

Cammy turned to him, her voice gaining strength, fire threading through every word. "The sooner I step into that house—the sooner Richard Cross sees me as one of his own—the better.

I will use their name, their influence, their empire if I have to. I’ll do whatever it takes. Because I’m not handing Dylan over to anyone. Not Duncan. Not the system. No one."

Silence settled between them for a beat. But it wasn’t emptiness—it was loaded with resolve.

Ric finally nodded, his grip firm on the wheel as they approached the outer gates of the Cross mansion.

"Then let’s get you inside," he said quietly. "Let them see who you really are."

The iron gates slowly creaked open, revealing the opulent, fortress-like estate beyond. It wasn’t just a home—it was a stronghold. The heart of the Cross legacy.

The car came to a smooth halt beneath the arched stone entryway of the Cross mansion.

The doors opened before Cammy and Ric could even knock.

Two maids in pressed, pale blue uniforms bowed slightly in greeting. One of them reached for Cammy’s coat with gentle hands, the other did the same for Ric, moving with silent efficiency.

Behind them, the butler—an older man with silver hair and an air of disciplined grace—stepped forward.

"Miss Watson. Mr. Rossi," he said with a slight nod. "Welcome. Mr. Cross is expecting you. Please follow me."

The polished floors seemed to stretch endlessly as they walked down the grand corridor, the walls lined with oil portraits and relics of a long, intimidating lineage. The sound of their footsteps was swallowed by the thick rugs—yet the silence still felt deafening.

Then they reached the threshold of the living room.

It was screaming luxury, of course. Warm, rich colors, crystal decanters gleaming on a side table, and a fire crackling in the hearth like a beast breathing in its cage. But what truly made Cammy’s pulse spike was the presence waiting for her in that room.

Richard Cross stood at the center, poised like a monarch on neutral ground. Regal in his stance, commanding in his gaze. At his side, Aarya sat with a wine glass in hand, her elegance as cold as her calculating smile.

Behind Richard stood his children—like sentinels. Watching. Waiting.

Greg was there, his eyes unreadable as they flicked from Cammy to Ric.

Richard spoke, his deep voice cutting through the tension like a slow-moving blade.

"Welcome home, Cammy," he said with unnerving ease. "It’s time you met the family formally—though you’ve already met Aarya."

Cammy gave a polite nod to the woman, who returned it with a glimmer of something like amusement... or warning.

Richard continued, lifting a hand toward the man at Greg’s side. "This is Daniel—my stepson. Aarya’s son from her first husband, God rest his soul."

Daniel offered a small smile. Polite. Controlled. His posture military-straight, his handshake years of grooming wrapped in skin and bone.

Richard turned next toward two young women who were practically mirror images of each other—slim, tall, with sharp features softened by high-end designer elegance.

"These are my daughters—Ginger and Geraldine. Twins. Spirited, as you’ll soon find out."

The twins exchanged looks before offering Cammy synchronized smiles that didn’t quite reach their eyes.

"And of course..." Richard turned to Greg with a faint smirk, "you already know Gregory. My firstborn. The future of the company—at least, until the world changes."

A pause. Loaded. Calculated.

Cammy’s breath hitched—but she didn’t flinch.

She straightened her spine, stepping forward with a grace that mirrored Aarya’s, but with fire beneath her skin.

Her eyes turned to the person who kept his applause so loud, making sure everybody hears it.