Rebirth Swapped Bride; Married to the Ruthless Cursed Billionaire-Chapter 307: Calvin visited Tiffany’s Apartment

" Tiffany, you’re back?"

A middle-aged woman in a dance dress emerged, waving a fan typically used for square dancing.

Her eyes lit up the moment she spotted the strikingly handsome man standing beside Tiffany.

"Oh my, is this the boyfriend you mentioned before?"

Before Tiffany could respond, the woman beamed, her face practically glowing with excitement.

"Calvin’s so handsome! Is he a celebrity or something?"

"No,

Auntie, you’ve got it wrong," Tiffany replied with an awkward chuckle, quickly trying to clarify.

"Calvin’s not—"

My boyfriend.

Just a friend.

But before she could finish, Calvin smoothly cut in with a charming smile.

"Auntie, you’re mistaken. I’m not a celebrity."

His voice was deep and velvety, effortlessly pleasant to the ear.

"Not a celebrity?

That’s perfectly fine!"

The woman’s grin widened, her wrinkles smoothing out as she admired Calvin’s impossibly perfect features—like he’d stepped right out of a manga.

"You’re way more handsome than them," She glanced at her watch and gasped.

"Oh dear, I’m going to be late for my dance class!

Young man, next time come over to Auntie’s place for dinner with Tiffany, alright?"

With that, she hurried into the elevator and disappeared downstairs.

Tiffany turned to Calvin with an apologetic smile.

"Auntie is just really warm-hearted—don’t mind her."

She figured someone like Calvin probably wasn’t fond of random small talk.

"No worries," Calvin’s lips curled slightly.

"It’s actually kind of refreshing."

Seeing he genuinely didn’t mind, Tiffany felt a quiet relief settle in her chest.

The door swung open, and they stepped inside.

"Make yourself at home,"

Tiffany said softly. "I’ll make you some tea."

Calvin nodded. "Of course."

Tiffany walked into the kitchen, while Hao Yan casually settled onto the sofa, his tall frame sinking into the cushions with effortless ease.

His gaze drifted around the room, taking in the layout—simple and cozy, much like its owner.

Then, abruptly, his eyes locked onto the trash bin beside the sofa.

Inside, several deliberately cut-up photographs lay discarded.

Each one featured a teenage Tiffany, radiant with youth, her smile so bright it could lift anyone’s spirits just by looking at it.

Yet, the spaces where someone’s hand had once held hers, where an arm had once linked with hers, had all been meticulously cut away.

The missing pieces left the photos jagged, incomplete.

Calvin’s expression darkened, displeasure flickering in his eyes.

Calvin didn’t need to ask who had been erased from those pictures.

*Damn bastard.*

For a long moment, he studied the remaining images of Tiffany.

Then, without hesitation, he reached in, picked one up, and slipped it into the pocket over his heart. "Alright," Tiffany emerged from the kitchen holding an adorable pink polka-dotted cup.

"Sorry, I don’t usually have guests over, so I didn’t prepare any extra cups."

To be precise, no one besides Camilla and Arlo had ever stepped foot in this apartment.

She had no need for socializing with others, so she only kept tableware and daily essentials for the two of them.

Arlo’s things had already been thrown away, and of course, she couldn’t give Camilla’s to Calvin—so she had no choice but to offer her own.

Calvin glanced at the faintly worn cup in his hand, the corner of his lips quirking slightly as he replied indifferently, "No problem."

Tiffany ducked into her room to grab a couple of clothes and, most importantly, her notebook.

While taking care of Calvin these next couple of days, she could also observe his expressions and movements—perfect material for her new book.

After all, having such flawless inspiration right in front of her eyes was an opportunity too good to waste.

Meanwhile.

Outside the residential complex, inside a white Range Rover.

Antonio stared at the flashy silver Pagani parked not far away, his handsome features shadowed with a dark intensity.

The relationship between those two was clearly more complicated than what Tiffany had described.

Things had just gotten a lot trickier.

"Let’s go—"

"Yes, sir!"

The driver immediately started the car.

"Sir," The assistant frowned.

"Should we proceed with our plans regarding this person?"

"Put it on hold for now. We need to observe a bit longer," Antonio tore his gaze away, loosening his tie with a sharp tug as he spoke in a low, measured tone.

"This Calvin... isn’t someone to be trifled with either." Leaning back in his seat, the usual clarity in his expression vanished, replaced by an unshakable gloom.

"We’ll have to find another way."

Ever since returning to the capital, he’d been plagued by this suffocating sense of powerlessness, as if invisible shackles weighed him down at every turn.

This feeling of being cornered—it disgusted him.

"Yes, sir."

The assistant barely dared to breathe, watching Antonio’s stormy expression with a growing unease.

Things had spiraled far beyond their initial expectations.

If this continued, unpredictable consequences were inevitable.

Yet he knew his boss too well—Antonio wouldn’t back down until he’d reclaimed Miss Rodriguez.

If only things could proceed smoothly from here.

The family elders were already breathing down their necks.

What they didn’t realize was this: The moment they set their sights on Camilla, their fate had already been sealed.

In the living room of the Luther Family’s ancestral home, Grandpa Luther sat on the sofa with Carie Ann nestled in his arms, telling her stories while feeding her pieces of fruit.

Anyone from the capital who witnessed the stern and formidable Grandpa Luther displaying such tender affection would surely be stunned.

But Carie Ann, having grown accustomed to his doting, accepted it with effortless ease.

Sinclair and Camilla sat close together nearby, watching the scene quietly.

Just then, Uncle Carlos entered briskly.

"Grandpa, Mr. Sinclair, Ms. Camilla," he said gently.

"Mr. Taylor Taylor has arrived."

It seemed Taylor had personally escorted grandma Porter here.

Camilla’s grip on Sinclair’s hand tightened slightly.

In response, Sinclair wrapped his slender, pale fingers around hers, idly toying with them.

His strikingly handsome face remained impassive, betraying no emotion.

"If anyone should be here to stir up trouble, it ought to be that brat from the Calvin family," Grandpa Luther looked up with curiosity, a faint smile playing on his lips.

"Taylor?

What brings you here?"

Calvin and Taylor were like his own grandchildren, having watched them grow up alongside Sinclair.

Calvin knew their temperaments well.

His question now was merely an elder’s playful teasing.

"It was Sinclair and I who invited Taylor," Camilla explained with a warm smile, meeting the old man’s gaze.

"We need to discuss some health-related matters with him."

"I see," Grandpa Luther nodded knowingly, then turned to Uncle Carlos without further questions.

"Show him in, then."

Uncle Carlos was well aware of Taylor’s health struggles and had often lamented over it in the past.

Fortunately, Camilla had found a way to treat him.

Some things, it seemed, were simply meant to be.

"Right away," Uncle Carlos replied promptly before stepping out.

Soon after, Taylor—a scholarly-looking man dressed in a dark gray suit—entered the room alongside an elderly woman, grandma Porter.

"Grandpa Luther—"

Taylor gave a slight nod in greeting.

Grandpa Luther’s gaze lingered on the familiar old woman before he spoke slowly.

"Taylor, who is this?"

Recalling the excuse he and Camilla had agreed upon earlier, Taylor replied smoothly, without a trace of hesitation.

"She’s a specialist I’ve invited to help with some health concerns.

There are a few questions we’d like to ask Camilla."

Grandpa Luther studied grandma Porter for a moment before nodding slowly.

"Then you may go upstairs first."

"No need to rush," Taylor said.

"Carie Ann’s family should be arriving soon."

Just as Camilla was about to suggest they take a seat and wait, grandma Porter suddenly spoke up, her voice trembling with emotion. " Carie Ann?"

Her eyes locked onto the figure in Grandpa Luther’s arms, and she stepped forward eagerly.

"Miss Carie Ann, is it really you?!"

Grandma Porter knew Carie Ann?

The unexpected scene left everyone present, including Camilla, utterly stunned.

At the sound of grandma Porter’s voice, Carrie Ann—who had been nestled in Grandpa Luther’s arms munching on fruit—suddenly lifted her head.

Her grape-like eyes widened the moment she spotted the elderly woman.

Overcome with excitement, she wriggled free from Grandpa Luther’s embrace and dashed toward Grandma Porter on her tiny legs.

The old woman immediately knelt and stretched out her arms to embrace the child.

Tears of emotion welled up in her aged, deep-set eyes.

"Miss Carrie Ann, how did you end up in the capital?

The entire clan has been searching for you in utter desperation!"

Unable to speak, Carrie Ann simply clung to Grandma Porter with all her might.

Pearls of tears rolled down her fair, cherubic cheeks—this was the first familiar face from her clan she’d seen in what felt like an eternity.

"What on earth is going on here?"

Camilla broke the heavy silence in the room. "Grandma Porter, you know Carrie Ann?"

"She’s one of our clan members, she—"

The old woman nodded repeatedly, just about to explain when hurried footsteps echoed from outside once more.

"President Luther, Madam," Ramsey’s voice rang out.

"I’ve brought her."

With that, he ushered in a young woman with fair, delicate features, dressed in a flowing black robe.

For a moment, all eyes in the room turned toward her.

The young woman’s gaze, however, settled firmly on grandma. Porter and Carrie Ann.

"Carrie Ann." ƒreeωebnovel.ƈom

The elderly woman’s face lit up with surprise and reverence at the sight of the newcomer.

"Ms. Camilla."

The young woman gave a slight nod in acknowledgment.

Carrie Ann, meanwhile, dashed forward and wrapped her arms around the woman’s legs, her excitement far surpassing even her reaction to Grandma. Porter.

Camilla observed the interaction between the three, her clear, intelligent eyes narrowing slightly as if deep in thought.

Holding Carrie Ann’s hand, the young woman walked toward the sofa.

Her gaze lingered briefly on Sinclair, a flicker of something unreadable passing through her eyes.

Sinclair, of course, didn’t miss it—his dark eyes narrowed imperceptibly.

"I’m Iris," the young woman said, bowing slightly to grandpa and the others, her tone earnest.

"Thank you for saving my younger sister.

We Mileage people don’t like owing favors.

Is there anything I can do to repay you?"

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