My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge-Chapter 238: A Mother’s Oath

The car ride home was quiet, but not uncomfortable. Cammy leaned her head slightly on the passenger window, watching the city blur by in golden streaks of light.

Her heart was heavy with everything that had just happened—from Richard’s blessing to the unspoken pain in Greg’s eyes—but beside her, Ric’s steady hand on the steering wheel grounded her.

He didn’t speak, didn’t pressure her with questions. He just drove. Always patient. Always there.

As they pulled into the familiar neighborhood, a soft breeze carried the scent of rain from earlier in the evening. Ric parked in front of Cammy’s building, and as they stepped out, an older couple stood by the lobby doors.

Mr. James and Mrs. Brenda Moore, the elderly owners of the rooftop apartment of Cammy, waved with wide smiles.

"There she is!" Mrs. Moore called out, her pearl earrings bobbing as she approached.

"We’ve been waiting for you all evening," Mr. James added, his leather shoes tapping against the tiled ground.

Cammy’s eyes widened. "Mr. James? Mrs. Moore? Is everything alright?"

Mrs. Moore nodded enthusiastically. "More than alright, dear! The apartment is finally done. The renovation is done, we went there this afternoon after the project manager called us. We can all move back in starting tomorrow."

Cammy gasped in relief, a smile breaking across her face. "You have no idea how much I needed this news today. Thank you both so much."

"Well, we’ll leave you two. Just wanted to share the good news," Mr. James chuckled before they headed up to their own unit.

Cammy unlocked her door and stepped inside her apartment. Ric hovered at the entrance.

"I can help you pack up tomorrow if you want," he offered. "I mean, it’s just a few boxes, right? I’m free all day, we can help Mr. and Mrs. Moore, Eve, and Cassey, too. I am sure they need help as well.

Then I can call the moving company we used before, so you can move back in on Sunday."

Cammy turned to him, eyes soft. "I’d like that. It will help me keep my mind off my problems in life. Thank you, Ric. You’ve helped me... more than I can ever repay."

He smiled, but something vulnerable flashed in his eyes. "Can I... hug you? Just a real, proper hug, before I go?"

She hesitated—but only for a breath. Then she nodded.

Ric stepped forward and wrapped his arms around her, not too tight, just warm and strong and steady. She closed her eyes, letting herself sink into the comfort of his embrace. His chest was solid, his scent a mix of warm spice and cologne, familiar now.

Inside her mind, a whisper echoed:

’Try. Try your best to love this man. He has done nothing but protect you. Care for you. Wait for you.’

As Ric slowly pulled away, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek, she looked up and offered a small, genuine smile.

"I’ll see you tomorrow," he said softly.

"Tomorrow," she repeated.

And as he walked down the hall and disappeared into the night, Cammy stood still at her door, caught between a past she couldn’t erase... and a future she still wasn’t sure how to feel. But maybe, just maybe, she could build something new.

Something real.

Cammy closed the door behind her with a gentle click, the soft hush of the apartment greeting her like an old friend. The warmth of the lights and the subtle scent of lemon cleaner gave the small space a feeling of calmness, even if her heart was anything but.

From the kitchen, she heard soft movements. Turning the corner, she saw Dylan’s nanny wiping down the countertop, her back to the entrance.

"Madam," the nanny said as she turned around, startled but smiling. "Dylan just fell asleep a few moments ago. Miss Eve and Cassey left about an hour ago—both kids were already yawning."

Cammy nodded, her smile weary. "Thanks for letting me know. You’ve done more than enough today. Once you’re finished there, go ahead and rest."

The nanny nodded gratefully and returned to tidying the counter, her motions quiet and efficient.

Cammy padded down the hallway, her footsteps muffled by the carpet. She pushed open Dylan’s bedroom door with the softest touch and stepped inside, immediately engulfed in the soft, rhythmic sound of her son’s breathing.

The night light cast a warm glow across the room. Dylan was curled up on his side, clutching his favorite pillow, his chest rising and falling in peaceful slumber. His lashes fluttered slightly, as though he was lost in a dream.

Cammy approached slowly, her heart squeezing in her chest. She knelt beside his bed, her hand reaching out instinctively to brush the soft tresses away from his forehead. His skin was warm, his little lips slightly parted in sleep.

She inhaled sharply, biting down the wave of emotion threatening to break.

"I missed you so much today," she whispered, voice barely audible, "and I’m doing everything I can to be with you forever."

As she adjusted the blanket, her hand bumped into something beneath the bed. Curious, she reached down and pulled out a slightly crumpled piece of paper.

It was a child’s drawing—messy and innocent. Stick figures with smiling faces. A woman with long hair labeled "Mommy," a little boy with a crown named "Dylan," and beside them, a tall man labeled "Uncle Greg."

Tears pooled in her eyes before she could stop them.

She traced the lines with her fingers, her heart cracking. The drawing, so simple, was a brutal reminder of how much Dylan likes Greg.

She knew he needed stability, love, and a life where he didn’t have to be passed from one place to another like a parcel in a custody war.

Cammy blinked, the tears falling quietly down her cheeks as she pressed a kiss to Dylan’s forehead.

"Hang in there, my baby," she whispered, gripping the drawing in her hand like a sacred vow. "I will make sure to get you back. I promise over my dead body."

She remained there a moment longer, memorizing his peaceful face, holding onto the fire growing in her chest.

She would win this war. She had no other choice, she told herself over and over.

Outside, the city moved on as always. But inside that room, Cammy Watson swore a mother’s silent oath—and the world would feel its tremor.