My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 217: Cammy’s Plan (4)

Greg groaned as the sharp stab of light pierced through his eyelids. His head throbbed with the dull, punishing rhythm of a hangover, and his mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton.

What’s worse than being awakened by a loud ringtone while having a hangover?

He blindly reached for his phone, swiping until Cammy’s name glowed on the screen.

"Cammy?" he rasped, his voice thick with sleep and regret.

[Hey... sorry, did I wake you up?]

He sat up slowly, wincing as a wave of nausea swirled through him. "Kinda," he admitted, dragging a hand down his face. "But it is okay. How are you?"

[I’m fine. I was wondering... if it’s alright for us to talk. In your suite.]

Greg’s mind stuttered for a moment, trying to piece together the request through the fog in his brain. "Uh... yeah, of course. I will get ready then."

"Okay. We’re on my way."

’We.’ That word echoed in his head as he tossed the phone aside and stumbled to his feet. He didn’t even remember getting back to the suite last night.

The last thing he recalled was sitting at the bar with Ric, one drink too many, the haze of alcohol washing over his thoughts. He cursed under his breath and made his way to the shower, letting the scalding water try to scrub the confusion from his mind.

Ten minutes later, dripping wet and clutching a towel around his waist, Greg stepped out into the living area, running a hand through his damp hair. He looked around, groggy and disoriented, searching for something.

’The backpack.’

He blinked, trying to remember what he did with it. ’Did I even bring it back?’ A flicker of memory—Ric guiding him out of the bar, his voice low and steady—flashed in his mind, but nothing concrete.

That’s when the suite doorbell rang.

Greg didn’t even look at the peephole and just opened the door straight away.

Cammy stepped in first, Ric behind her. She was mid-sentence, but whatever words she had evaporated the second her eyes landed on Greg.

Her breath caught. She froze.

Greg stood, glistening from the shower, muscles taut and slick with water. The towel clung low to his hips, a few droplets still trailing down his chest and disappearing into the fabric. His hair was damp, messy, and his eyes—though slightly bloodshot—held that familiar, smoldering intensity she’d once known all too well.

Cammy swallowed hard, her throat tightening. Her gaze involuntarily lingered, caught between memory and something much more dangerous. She quickly looked away, cheeks heating. fгeewёbnoѵel.cσm

Greg blinked, realizing too late just how exposed he was. "Shit. Sorry, I didn’t know you were—"

"You should probably finish getting dressed," Ric cut in with a hint of a annoyance seeing how Cammy looked at Greg.

Walking past them both and casually opening a cabinet near the minibar. "Your backpack’s in here. I put it away last night. You were too hammered to notice anything."

Greg stared at him, then at the cabinet, and muttered under his breath. "Right... of course."

He took the bag from Ric with a nod of gratitude, then turned to Cammy—who still hadn’t looked at him again. "I’ll be out in a minute."

Cammy just nodded, her voice caught somewhere in her chest.

As Greg disappeared into the bedroom, Ric glanced sideways at her. "You okay?"

She nodded quickly, avoiding his eyes. "Yeah... just tired."

But the truth was, exhaustion had nothing to do with it. The image of Greg standing there, soaked and unguarded, was burned into her mind like a flame against skin. And suddenly, everything about this conversation they were about to have felt even more complicated.

Greg didn’t take long to get ready. After tossing on a fresh black shirt and a pair of jeans, he stepped back into the living room, still toweling off the last drops of water from his hair. But the moment his eyes met Cammy’s, everything around them slowed to a crawl.

Silence.

Thick. Charged. Heavy.

The kind of silence that held a thousand memories between them—unspoken things, forbidden things, things that never should’ve happened but did anyway.

Cammy stood stiffly near the couch, her arms wrapped tightly around herself like a shield.

Greg stayed near the door of the bedroom, his jaw clenched, trying to read her expression, but she gave him nothing. Just those wide, guarded eyes that seemed to ache more than speak.

Ric, sensing the tension—and maybe trying to spare them both from suffocating in it—cleared his throat and spoke.

"Well," he began, his voice steady but gentle, "I think now would be a good time to explain everything. Cammy... I think you need to tell Greg what idea you have in mind to solve this crisis and—" he paused, looking between them with soft sincerity "—this blessing in your lives."

Cammy took in a shaky breath. Her fingers gripped the hem of her shirt. Her nails were digging into the fabric like she needed to anchor herself to something solid.

Her heart was thudding so loudly it nearly drowned out her thoughts. But this was it. No more stalling. No more running. The choice had already been made. All that remained was the truth.

She turned fully to Greg, her voice a little hoarse when she finally spoke.

"I..." She hesitated for just a moment. Then she stood straighter, eyes locking with his.

"I will marry Ric," she said, steady now. "And he will be the father of our baby."

Greg’s entire body went still. He felt like his heart stopped and his soul left his body.

For a heartbeat—two, maybe three—he didn’t move, didn’t speak. The words hit him like a punch straight to the ribs, stealing the air from his lungs. His expression didn’t change, but something shifted in his eyes, like glass cracking beneath the pressure.

Cammy saw it.

Ric felt it.

No one breathed.

And in that suspended, fragile moment, everything between the three of them trembled on the edge of unraveling.