My Two Billionaire Husbands: A Plan for Revenge

Ric arrived at the suite with both hands full of take-out boxes, his face flushed from the sun and the rush to get back. He balanced the containers against his chest and knocked lightly on the door.

Cammy opened it before he could call out, her expression unreadable—too still, too quiet.

Ric’s eyes scanned the room immediately, the tension in his shoulders noticeable. "Where’s Greg?"

Cammy stepped aside to let him in and softly closed the door behind them. "He’s out on the balcony," she said. "Taking a call."

Ric nodded slowly, glancing toward the sheer curtains swaying near the sliding doors. Greg’s silhouette stood still against the light, his back turned to them, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the phone loosely to his ear. He looked distant—too still for someone on a real call.

Cammy moved to help Ric set the food on the table. They worked in silence, placing boxes down without much care for the order or arrangement. The weight of everything that had been said earlier still lingered in the air like smoke that refused to dissipate.

Then, quietly, Ric asked, "What did he say? Is he... somehow open to the idea?"

Cammy paused mid-motion, setting down the last container with a soft thud. She looked at him, her brows drawn slightly, eyes searching his for something—fear, hope, regret—anything to give her an anchor.

Cammy sighed and folded the paper bag neatly, her fingers fidgeting at the corners. "I don’t know," she whispered. "He hasn’t really spoken about it since you left."

She sat down slowly, folding her hands in her lap like a child waiting for judgment. "He just said we should wait for you... so we could all talk together."

Ric’s jaw tensed, his gaze drifting again toward the balcony where Greg still stood like a statue carved in heartache.