CHAPTER 488: FINDING THE CULPRIT

"Darling,"

Camilla gazed at Sinclair, her sweet smile radiating from the corners of her eyes, impossible to conceal.

"Good morning."

There was no greater happiness than waking up to the sight of the one you love.

Sinclair narrowed his dark, profound eyes, studying the woman in his arms with unwavering focus.

After a moment, his lips curved slightly as he leaned down to press a tender kiss to her forehead.

"I love you."

His voice, already deep and rich, carried a husky edge that made it even more magnetic.

Though it wasn’t the first time she’d heard her husband’s confession, each time still sent her heart racing uncontrollably.

"The baby and I love you too."

The smile on Sinclair’s lips deepened as he pulled Camilla back into his embrace, his obsidian eyes brimming with contentment.

"Compared to him, I need your love more."

A flicker of helpless amusement passed through Camilla’s sparkling eyes as she silently whispered in her heart, "Sweetheart, Daddy doesn’t mean it like that.

Sinclair needs your love too—you must love him just as much as Mommy does, more than anyone else in the world."

The two whispered softly to each other, enveloped in an exceptionally warm and tender atmosphere.

Time flew by, and soon it was nearly noon.

"Stay put and rest for a while.

I’ll make lunch for you."

"You don’t have to go through all that trouble," Camilla murmured, wrapping her arms around Sinclair’s waist and shaking her head gently.

"I don’t have much of an appetite.

Just something simple will do."

She didn’t want, Sinclair to overexert himself.

"Precisely because you have no appetite, we can’t just settle for anything," Sinclair replied, his fingers brushing aside a stray lock of hair that had fallen across her cheek and tucking it tenderly behind her ear.

His eyes gleamed with affection.

"Be good and listen to me." After pressing a kiss to her forehead, he threw back the covers and got out of bed.

The gratitude on Camilla’s face instantly transformed into shyness the next moment.

Broad shoulders, a narrow waist, sculpted abs, and long, toned legs— And, of course, that unmistakably prominent and assertive presence.

Burying her face in the blanket, Camilla peeked out with only her almond-shaped eyes still visible.

Her cheeks flushed crimson, yet she couldn’t tear her gaze away. It’s not like she hadn’t seen it before!

Besides, he was her husband—not some stranger.

Sinclair seemed to sense something and suddenly turned his head, locking eyes with her before she could look away.

That intense, penetrating gaze felt like an invisible net woven through the air, ensnaring her completely, drawing her closer to him inch by inch.

"Camilla—"

The corners of his lips curled as he slowly called her name, his voice unusually deep.

Just those two simple syllables sent a shiver down her spine.

Her long, delicate lashes fluttered involuntarily, betraying her guilt before she even spoke.

"I wasn’t looking."

"I was just going to ask what you want for lunch," she added hastily.

Sinclair’s smile deepened, his striking features illuminated with quiet amusement, outshining everything around him.

"But Camilla, what exactly do you mean by ’wasn’t looking’?"

She bit her lip, resisting the urge to cover her face in embarrassment. Why does her mouth always move faster than her brain?

"Nothing, it’s nothing."

Sinclair watched Camilla’s adorable expression, his Adam’s apple bobbing slightly.

Sinclair turned and walked to the bed, cupping the back of her head as he leaned in for a kiss.

Unlike his usual domineering manner, this kiss was gentle, almost tentative, and ended all too soon.

"Everything I have belongs to Camilla," Sinclair murmured in a low voice, his dark obsidian eyes locked onto her misty almond-shaped ones.

"Sweetheart, you have every right to look at whatever you want, however you want, for as long as you want."

With that, he pressed another soft kiss to her reddened lips before heading toward the bathroom.

If he stayed any longer, he’d be the one losing control first. ——

Thomas Family Mansion.

Though the news of Thomas’s incident hadn’t been made public, an unusual heaviness hung over the entire household.

Mr. Thomas’s face was dark with fury as he glared at the man standing before him.

"How the hell did Thomas get tangled up with some American businessman?"

As a father, he knew better than anyone else just how sharp—or rather, how lacking—his son’s business acumen and methods were.

That was precisely why he had only handed him a few entertainment and luxury companies to play around with, keeping him far away from their family’s core business dealings.

So how had he managed to make an enemy out of some American businessman?

"I... I haven’t been able to uncover the exact reason yet, sir," the heavily tattooed man admitted, his voice grave.

"But I’ve confirmed that the young master did arrange for this American businessman to be dealt with before tonight’s charity gala."

Mr. Thomas left the rest unsaid, but the implication was clear.

The other side had somehow gotten wind of the plan—and struck first.

The tattooed man hesitated, stealing a glance at Mr. Thomas before speaking again.

"It’s highly likely that the young master is currently in this person’s hands."

Mr. Thomas let out a cold snort, his fingers tightening into a fist on the desk, his entire body radiating an intimidating aura of menace.

"Such audacity."

His voice was dark and inscrutable, barely containing the fury that threatened to tear someone apart.

"Have we uncovered this person’s identity yet?"

Daring to provoke the tiger in its own den—seemed like they had a death wish.

The tattooed man shook his head.

"Whoever this is, they’ve hidden their identity well.

Clearly not someone to underestimate.

Our people are still digging," the tattooed man replied, his expression grim.

"However, we’ve traced them to the hotel they’re staying at based on the leads.

I’ve already sent men over."

"Go there yourself and bring them to me," Mr. Thomas pressed his fingers to his temples, his voice dropping to a bone-chilling tone. "Remember—proceed with caution.

Don’t forget my son is still in their hands."

No matter how useless his son might be, he was still Mr. Thomas’s only flesh and blood—the sole heir of their family.

The tattooed man gave a solemn nod.

"Understood, sir."

"Make sure my wife and my daughter-in-law remain in the dark.

I don’t want them worrying."

Mr. Thomas lowered his hand, his eyes darkening like a venomous serpent’s.

"If anyone dares leak a word of this, you know what to do—no need for me to spell it out, right?"

The last few words were uttered casually, yet carried a chilling ruthlessness.

"Understood."

The tattooed man nodded solemnly, his expression grave.

"I’ll handle the arrangements immediately."

Before long, several more cars sped out of Thomas family villa, racing toward the hotel where Sinclair was staying.