Sinclair responded mildly, his well-defined fingers gently smoothing the faint crease between Camilla’s brows.
"Leave everything to me.
You don’t need to think about anything—just focus on recovering your health.
That’s what matters most."
And certainly don’t frown over someone so insignificant.
Understanding Sinclair’s thoughts, Camilla’s crimson lips curved into a tender smile as she gently squeezed the man’s hand in return.
"I know," she said playfully.
"I was just listening for fun, don’t worry."
Sinclair glanced at Ramsey, his tone indifferent as he effortlessly steered the conversation elsewhere.
"What about the Mega family?"
Camilla also turned her gaze toward him.
"Everything was handled according to your instructions."
Having worked by Sinclair’s side for years, Ramsey immediately grasped his boss’s intent.
Under Camilla’s curious gaze, he swiftly began detailing the current state of the Mega family.
Mr. Mega, due to the underhanded dealings within the Mega Group, was now facing at least thirty years behind bars—assuming Stephen didn’t intervene, of course.
As for the proud and dignified Mega matriarch, after her humiliating public breakdown, her stroke had worsened.
Now mentally incoherent and unable to speak, she was doomed to spend the rest of her days in a hospital bed.
Then there was the spark that ignited the Mega family’s downfall—Madam Mega.
Thanks to her divorce from Mr. Mega, she had avoided imprisonment in this scandal. Instead, she had been committed to a psychiatric facility.
There, she would endure not only the "special care" the Mega matriarch had once arranged for her but also face punishment for hiring assassins.
Worse still, she would be forced to relive her son’s death daily—watching videos and reading reports about it—condemned to a lifetime of psychological torment.
The fates of these three could hardly be compared—none fared better than the others.
Ramsey’s voice was detached, devoid of any fluctuation.
*They deserve no sympathy.*
Every consequence stems from a cause.
Had the Mega family not repeatedly schemed against President Luther and his wife, they wouldn’t have met such an end.
Sinclair’s expression remained cold and unreadable, his aura icy.
Camilla leaned back in her seat, listening quietly.
They never sought conflict, but neither would they let any harm go unpunished.
The Mega family had brought this ruin upon themselves.
Once Ramsey finished speaking, he turned away and discreetly raised the partition, dividing the spacious car into two separate worlds.
"We’re not returning to the estate today," Sinclair murmured, gathering Camilla into his arms and pressing a kiss to her forehead, his voice tender.
"We’ll rest at a hotel—there’s still some way to go."
His large, warm hand gently stroked the delicate curve of her back.
"Sleep for a while, love."
Camilla hadn’t felt sleepy at all initially.
But pressed against the man’s chest, listening to his steady heartbeat and breathing in the crisp woody scent that lingered around him, she found herself unwittingly relaxing.
Her consciousness gradually faded as she drifted into slumber.
Sinclair heard the even breathing of the woman in his arms, yet his soothing strokes along her back never ceased.
However, when his dark, narrow eyes turned toward the window, they revealed an icy chill that could freeze one’s soul.
Time crawled by at a glacial pace.
An hour later, the sleek black Rolls-Royce Ghost glided to a stop in front of a luxury five-star hotel.
Having received advance notice, the hotel manager had already assembled his staff to wait at the entrance.
The moment he spotted Sinclair’s car, he put on a polished smile and hurried forward.
Until now, he’d had no idea that such a formidable figure was even in E Country.
The news had genuinely startled him.
In a flurry of activity, the entire hotel had been scrubbed from top to bottom in record time—anything to avoid displeasing their distinguished guests.
Sinclair slowly rolled down the window, his gaze cool as it settled on Ramsey standing beside the car.
Ramsey took one swift glance through the window, reading his employer’s expression with practice ease.
Understanding flashed in his eyes.
Ramsey stepped forward, intercepting the hotel manager, and murmured something in a hushed tone.
The manager’s eyes flickered toward the back seat, catching a glimpse of the man’s chiseled, ice-cold profile before he quickly averted his gaze.
With a respectful nod, he handed over a small item to Ramsey with both hands, then silently ushered his entourage away.
Not a single unnecessary sound was made.
Only once the last of them had disappeared did Ramsey turn back and open the car door for Sinclair.
Sinclair carried Camilla out of the car and strode toward the hotel entrance.
His movements were deliberately gentle, his footsteps barely making a sound.
Camilla wasn’t completely unaware they had arrived.
But exhaustion weighed heavily on her, and the familiar, comforting scent enveloping her made it easy to surrender to sleep.
She nestled deeper into Sinclair’s arms, undisturbed.
The hotel lobby was nearly empty, save for two receptionists.
Spotting Sinclair, they immediately softened their steps, pressing the elevator button before stepping aside in silence.
Only after Sinclair had carried Camilla inside did Ramsey follow, head slightly bowed as he took his place beside them.
The elevator ascended smoothly to the twenty-eighth floor—the hotel’s pinnacle.
As Sinclair approached the lavish presidential suite with Camilla in his arms, his inscrutable dark eyes flicked toward Ramsey, conveying an unspoken command.
Ramsey understood instantly, giving a silent nod in acknowledgment.
Once the suite door closed, Ramsey remained stationed outside, standing guard without a word.
All properties under the Luther Group boasted minimalist yet luxurious decor, and the presidential suite was no exception.
The moment they stepped inside, motion-sensor lights flickered to life, casting a warm, muted glow that illuminated the space without the slightest harshness.
The entire room was adorned in a minimalist palette of matte black, natural wood, and ivory white—simple yet far from ordinary.
Every detail, from the carefully placed ornaments to the decorative accents, exuded an understated luxury.
Sinclair carried Camilla in his arms, his steps steady and deliberate as he moved toward the bed.
The soft lighting casts a dreamlike glow over his striking features, making him appear almost ethereal.
With the gentlest touch, he laid her down on the bed, tucked her in, and pressed a tender kiss to her forehead.
Just as he was about to straighten up, her slender, pale arms looped around his neck.
Camilla’s long, delicate lashes fluttered as she slowly opened her eyes, gazing up at him with drowsy confusion.
Her voice was laced with sleep.
"Where are you going?"
Yielding to the pull of her arms, Sinclair lowered himself onto the edge of the bed.
His well-defined hand covered her eyes, shielding them from the light above.
"There’s still some business at the company," he murmured, brushing his lips against hers.
His deep voice, rich and soothing, resonated softly in the quiet room.
"Be a good girl and sleep. I’ll be back soon, alright?"
Even though Sweetheart was in Country E, the affairs back in San Francisco still demanded his personal attention.
Her belongings had only grown in number compared to before.
Without a hint of suspicion, she nodded, not wanting to delay Sinclair any longer.
Her voice was hoarse, laced with tenderness.
"Then come back to me as soon as you finish handling things."
"Of course," Sinclair replied softly.
Sinclair remained seated on the edge of the bed, in no hurry to leave.
His dark, narrow eyes lingered on her, the depths of his gaze swirling with an almost palpable devotion.
Only when Camilla’s breathing steadied and she drifted back into slumber did Sinclair rise, moving with deliberate quietness.
His polished leather shoes pressed soundlessly into the plush carpet.
Stepping out of the room, he gently closed the door behind him.
Ramsey, who had been waiting nearby, immediately approached, keeping his voice low.
Sinclair strode away from the room, his demeanor shifting instantly.
The warmth in his dark eyes vanished, replaced by an icy, suffocating intensity.