My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 242: Daughter

"Would you like me to get you a wedding planner?" Richard asked, glancing between Ric and Cammy, his tone both casual and deliberate.

Ric leaned back slightly, resting his arm across the chair beside Cammy. "What do you think, Cammy?" he asked, his voice gentle. "If it’s up to me, I’d like that. We’re both buried in work, and I don’t want you losing time with Dylan over flower arrangements and cake tastings."

Cammy nodded slowly, her fingers absentmindedly brushing the edge of her mug. "Right... Dylan’s cast is coming off in two weeks. After that... I need to send him back to Duncan."

The air changed.

She didn’t have to look to know Richard’s mood had shifted—she felt it. The subtle but sharp click of his jaw tightening. The way his hand, which had been resting calmly on the table, now curled into a fist.

"That bastard," Richard muttered, the venom behind the words unmistakable. "I think you should get married as soon as possible. Once you do, we can finally challenge the conservatorship and take Dylan back from him for good."

"That’s exactly what I was about to propose," Cammy said, her voice firmer now. A decision rising from inside her like a wave. She turned to Ric, meeting his eyes fully. "Is it okay for you... If we get married before Dylan goes to Duncan?"

Ric’s gaze didn’t waver. Not even a heartbeat passed before he smiled and said, "I can marry you today, if you want."

The words hit her with the force of something much larger than the moment. They weren’t just words—they were steady, certain. No hesitation. No pretense.

Cammy felt the heat rise to her cheeks, a bloom of color spreading from her throat up to her temples. She hadn’t expected that answer. Hadn’t expected it to stir something in her like this—so sudden, so warm. Her heart stuttered and her lips parted in a quiet breath as she bit down gently on her inner lip, her gaze slipping away, trying—failing—to hide the smile tugging at her mouth.

But it was too late.

Richard saw it. His eyes twinkled like a man who had just uncovered a delightful secret. "Aha!" he laughed, pointing a teasing finger in Ric’s direction. "At my age, I didn’t know I could still get swayed by lines like that. You really know how to make my daughter’s heart flutter, don’t you?"

Ric chuckled, running a hand through his hair in mock humility. "I try, sir."

’Daughter...’

The word echoed inside Cammy’s chest, echoing through her bones, curling around something fragile and aching.

’Daughter...’

She had grown up with only one man calling her that—Peter. Her Daddy. The man who sang lullabies off-key and burned toast every morning. The man who knew how to hold her when the world was too loud. That word belonged to him. And yet now...

Now, it had come from Richard.

And somehow, it didn’t feel forced. It didn’t feel like a title wrapped in expectation or guilt.

But it didn’t feel real, either.

Not yet.

Maybe not ever.

She looked at him then—this man with silver threads in his hair and fire in his voice. The father of the man she once gave her heart to, the man who’d unexpectedly carved out a space in her life where so few had ever been allowed.

He smiled at her, like he already believed she belonged.

She blinked quickly, pushing away the sting behind her eyes, her fingers curling lightly on the edge of the table.

"I think a wedding planner might be a good idea after all," she said, voice soft, trying to steady the trembling inside her. "Just... nothing fancy. No spotlight. I want it to feel... like us."

Richard gave a nod of approval. "Then that’s what we’ll do."

But Cammy wasn’t looking at him anymore.

She was staring out the window again, the light shifting across her face.

And in her mind, the sound of the ocean came rushing back.

That secluded beach. That whispered ’I do’. The way Greg’s hand trembled when he slipped the ring on her finger, which is now kept at the very bottom of her jewelry box.

The way the world disappeared the moment he kissed her. The only thing that existed was his touch and her breathless heart and the belief that forever really could be that simple.

But forever had been short.

And now, here she was, caught between the shadow of one love and the gentle, steady promise of another.

Her attention was pulled from the weight of her thoughts by the gentle vibration of her phone. She glanced down.

Mrs. Moore: [Lunch is ready! Come down to the ramen shop. I made extra gyoza and miso just for you. Bring everyone!]

Cammy smiled softly, her heart warming at the message. There was something grounding about Mrs. Moore—like a lighthouse in the chaos.

"They’re calling us down for lunch," she said, her voice a little lighter now. "Mrs. Moore says she made extra miso and gyoza."

Richard chuckled. "I suppose that’s my cue. You don’t say no to a free lunch."

Ric stood and stretched, the noon’s sunlight brushing over his shoulders. "Come on, let’s go."

Cammy walked ahead to Dylan’s room. He was still quietly coloring, his little cast resting on the pillow Ric had placed earlier. She crouched beside him and gently kissed the top of his head.

"Come on, love. We’re going downstairs to eat."

He beamed and scrambled up with a little help from Ric, who lifted him like he weighed nothing. Richard watched the exchange in silence, his expression unreadable for a moment. Then he smiled quietly to himself and followed behind them.

They made their way down the newly installed elevator—Ric joked that it still smelled like "new metal and fresh responsibility." Cammy laughed, letting herself breathe again, letting the warmth of the present push back the chill of her memory.

As the elevator doors opened, the scent of miso broth, garlic oil, and soy wafted into the hallway, wrapping them in something that felt like home.

The ramen shop was glowing with soft, amber lighting. Mrs. Moore waved them in excitedly, her apron still dusted with flour, and Mr. Moore stood behind the counter, already filling bowls with practiced speed.

"Oh good, you’re all here!" Mrs. Moore said, ushering them to a long table near the window where a row of steaming bowls awaited.

Cammy’s heart squeezed. At the end of the table was Greg, sitting beside Harry, opposite Eve and Cassey.

She froze in her spot and just stared at the man that her heart still hold so dear.