My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 223: Greg’s Plan (5)

It’s been a while since I put in a song recommendation. I was listening to this song for inspiration while I was writing this Chapter. Play it in the background, and I hope it resonates with you as well while reading this scene. Enjoy!

[~Song Recommendation: Hold Back The River - James Bay~]

Her hand instinctively went to her abdomen. "I’m pregnant. And I want to stop crying. I want to stop hurting. If I keep falling apart like this..." Her voice cracked. "...it’ll be bad for the baby."

Grace reached over and gently took her hand, her grip steady and warm. "I anticipated you’d feel that way, sweetheart. And I understand."

She offered a small, sad smile. "So here’s what I proposed to Greg. If you truly want to marry him—right now—you can. Just symbolically. No legal ties. No registration. A ceremony from the heart, with no binding weight until you decide it’s time."

Cammy stared at her, eyes full of questions and disbelief.

"That’s why I brought my mentor. Judge Thompson." Grace gestured behind her.

The old man stepped forward—dignified, calm, and quietly observant. "He’s here to officiate," Grace continued, "and to sign an agreement that this ceremony is not valid until a second DNA test is completed. One that you choose to go through with—when and if you’re ready."

The room fell silent again.

All eyes were on Cammy.

And her heart beat like a war drum in her chest, louder than ever.

Cammy dragged both hands down her face, as if trying to wipe away the madness of the moment. Her voice trembled between disbelief and rage, eyes wide and shining.

"So... let me get this straight." She looked around the room, her gaze stabbing through each of them. "This is just a fake wedding? A theatrical performance where I play the blushing bride so everyone can pretend that everything’s how it should’ve been?"

Her voice cracked on the last word, and for a second, no one moved. No one dared breathe.

Greg met her eyes, and instead of flinching, he stood taller. Straighter. His voice was calm, but there was a fire flickering behind it.

"Not pretend," he said firmly. "Not dress-up. Hope. That’s the word you’re looking for, Cammy. Hope."

His jaw tightened, his chest rose and fell with the effort of keeping himself together. "But if calling it a fake wedding makes it easier for you to say yes—then so be it."

He took one step closer, his voice now trembling with conviction. "Give me this. Give this day to me. As a gift. My final gift from you before you go and make Ric the father of our child."

The weight of his words landed like thunder.

Greg exhaled a deep, shaking breath. "If the test result was true... if we really are what they say we are—then I lose everything today. You. Our baby. Our future. Forever."

His voice broke, and he looked down, blinking away the storm in his eyes. "All I’ll have left are the photographs from this day. And I swear to God, Cammy... I will cherish those like my last breath."

Cammy’s shoulders fell as she released a guttural sigh, her chest heavy with frustration and grief. Her voice rose, tight and raw.

"Greg—can you even hear yourself?" she snapped. "You sound delusional! Childish! This—this isn’t how life works!"

But before she could continue, Greg dropped to his knees.

He reached for her hands and clutched them like a man drowning. His voice cracked open like a wound.

"Yes, I’m being delusional. Because I’m still in denial." His words hit like a punch to the gut. "I refuse to believe this nightmare is real. I refuse to accept that I have to let you go—so please..."

His grip tightened, desperate. "Let me be delusional. Just for today. Let me have this one day, where you’re mine. Let me marry you in a dream, even if I wake up to a life without you tomorrow."

And with that, his strength gave way.

He collapsed forward, head falling into her lap, his body wracked with sobs. Loud, aching, and unfiltered.

He wept like a boy abandoned. A man broken. A father undone by a fate he couldn’t fight.

He cried for everything he lost... and everything he never got the chance to hold.

"Oh God..." Cammy whispered, tipping her head back and staring at the ceiling, as if begging it to hold back the flood behind her eyes.

But it didn’t listen.

The tears broke loose.

And they weren’t hers alone.

Eve turned away, pressing her hand over her mouth, eyes glistening. Ellie blinked rapidly, wiping at her cheeks with trembling fingers. Even Harry and Ethan stood stiffly in the corner, jaw clenched, face turned away to hide the sheen in his eyes.

Grace held her breath, fighting her own heartache.

Even Judge Thompson—stoic, seasoned, a man of law—removed his glasses and discreetly wiped his face.

The sorrow in that room was overwhelming. All-consuming.

Their love, twisted and tragic, had spilled into every corner. It spared no one.

Everyone was bleeding from wounds they didn’t know they had.

Cammy closed her eyes.

The weight of everything—Greg’s sobs, the silent heartbreak echoing around the room, the suffocating heaviness in her chest—pressed down on her like a storm. She sat still, frozen, waiting.

Waiting for Greg’s grief to pour out. Waiting for the man she loved to empty all the pain he’d caged inside him for too long.

And when she felt the trembling in his shoulders soften, when his sobs turned into breathless whimpers, Cammy finally moved.

She gently placed her hands on either side of his face and lifted him. Her thumbs brushed away the tears clinging to his cheeks, and for a moment, their eyes locked—raw, vulnerable, and stripped of every pretense.

"Enough," she whispered, though her voice rang with strength. "Stand up."

She gripped his arms, firm yet tender, and pulled him to his feet with her. The way she looked at him now—steadily, tearfully, but with clarity—made Greg’s breath catch in his throat.

Then, without a word, she turned and walked to the center of the room.

The hush fell again like a spell.

She stopped in her tracks, turned to face him, and slowly raised her left hand—deliberate, graceful, resolute.

Her voice was calm but commanding.

"Ask me again. Wipe your tears first." freewebnσvel.cøm

Greg’s chest tightened. His heart slammed against his ribs. For a moment, he couldn’t move.

Then Cammy shifted her gaze to the side—to Ethan, who stood stunned with a high-end camera still slung around his neck.

"Ethan," she said, her voice catching just slightly, "make sure you capture everything. Every second. Every breath. Don’t miss a single moment."

Ethan nodded slowly, lifting the camera with trembling hands. Even through the lens, his eyes were glassy.

No one dared speak. The atmosphere had thickened, charged with anticipation, sorrow, and an aching kind of hope.

Something was happening.

Something sacred.

Something that might not be real tomorrow—but was everything today.