<h4>Chapter 192: Richard’s Secret (1)</h4>


    Cammy shifted ufortably in the golf cart, her body restless beside Greg as they cruised back to the mansion. Every bump in the road made her squirm, her agitation growing with each passing second.


    By the time they reached the grand estate, her walk was stiff, awkward—so unnatural that Greg couldn’t pretend not to notice anymore.


    He abruptly halted, tightening his grip on her hand, forcing her to stop as well. His sharp gaze locked onto hers. "What’s wrong?" he demanded, his voice low but firm.


    Cammy exhaled sharply, rolling her eyes before crossing her arms over her chest. "I’m not used to walking without underwear, Greg. It’s ufortable. And airy." Her tone was filled with frustration as she shot him a withering re.


    "This is your fault! Who just tosses someone’s panties to the ground—dirty ground—without even thinking? It was so dusty in there."


    Greg dragged a hand down his face, biting back augh. He knew better than to let it slip, but God, she looked so adorably flustered. Still, she was genuinely upset, and thest thing he wanted was to make it worse.


    His hands found her arms, rubbing them gently, his voiceced with apology. "I swear, I didn’t know it hadn’t been cleaned in a while. I pay someone to take care of that, and I’m sure there’s a reason why it was overlooked. I’ll buy you a new pair."


    Cammy’s eyes snapped shut as she inhaled deeply, barely restraining her irritation. "That’s not the point, Greg! I am walking through this mansion, in this dress, with absolutely nothing underneath!" Her breath shuddered as she let it out, frustration and embarrassment warring inside her.


    She shook her head, unwilling to argue any further. "You know what? Forget it. Let’s just get through this damn dinner and go home."


    Without another word, she strode toward the mansion, her back rigid, her movements tense. She didn’t wait for Greg. She couldn’t. Not when she was already burning from the inside out.


    As soon as they stepped inside, the warmth ofughter and conversation spilled from the dining room, filling the grand space with an air of celebration. Just as they were about to enter, Aarya appeared, striding toward the same destination with effortless grace.


    "There you are," she said, her sharp gaze flickering between them. "I sent people to look for you since I don’t have any of your numbers, but they all came back empty-handed. Where the hell did you two disappear to?"


    Greg barely hesitated, his expression the perfect mask of innocence. "Oh, we spotted some rabbits in the woods and decided to follow them. Didn’t realize how far we’d gone until it was toote." His delivery was smooth—too smooth.


    Aarya studied him for a moment, then simply nodded. "I see. Well, since you’re here, we can finally start dinner. Take a seat." With a graceful wave of her hand, she gestured toward the dining room before walking ahead.


    As soon as her back was turned, Cammy leaned in, amusement dancing in her eyes. She barely held back a smirk as she whispered, "Rabbits, huh? A horny rabbit for sure."


    Greg turned his head, biting his lip to stifle hisughter, but the way his shoulders shook betrayed him. He shot her a sideways nce, his lips twitching. "You really can’t help yourself, can you?"


    Cammy just shrugged, mischief glinting in her gaze. "Nope."


    With onest shared smirk, they stepped into the dining room, pretending to be the picture of innocence—while both knowing damn well they were anything but.


    As they entered the dining room, the air buzzed with polite conversation,ughter, and the distinct clinking of wine sses.


    Richard Cross rose from his seat as Greg and Cammy stepped in. His sharp blue eyes, so simr to Greg’s, swept over them with calcted warmth. "Ah, finally. Wee, both of you," he announced, his deep voicemanding the room’s attention. "It’s good to have you here tonight."


    Cammy swallowed. There was something unnerving about the way Richard looked at her, like he was studying her, searching for something beneath the surface.


    "As you can see," Richard continued, gesturing toward the well-dressed men at the table, "we have some special guests tonight. Our esteemed corporatewyers and ountants—men who have helped build Cross Holdings into what it is today."


    His words carried weight, as if every syble was meant to remind Greg of the empire he was about to inherit.


    Greg nodded, slipping into his role effortlessly. "d to meet you all."


    Dinner unfolded in a blur of business talk, asional polite small talk directed at Cammy, and more of Richard’s watchful stares. The moment the tes were cleared, Greg was drawn into an in-depth discussion with the ountants andwyers about his transition into thepany.


    Richard, seizing the opportunity, turned to Cammy with a smile that didn’t quite reach his eyes. "Cammy, would you mind joining me in my office for a moment? I’d like to have a word with you."


    Something about the way he asked—not a request, but an expectation—made her pulse quicken. But she nodded, pushing back her chair as she followed him out of the dining room.


    Richard’s office was a stark contrast to the lively dining room. It was monochromatic, heavy with the scent of aged ck leather and old books.


    The dim glow of a single deskmp cast long shadows against the walls. He gestured for her to take a seat on the long sofa, then lowered himself into the chair opposite her.


    Richard exhaled, steepling his fingers together. "Monica Watson. Your mother. She looked like you when she was younger, just with a different hair color."


    Her breath hitched. "You knew my mother when she was young?"


    A slow, almost mncholic smile curved his lips. "I didn’t just know her, Cammy. I loved her. We were in a long-term rtionship before."


    He leaned back, his gaze distant, as if he were looking not at her, but at a memory from long ago. "There was a time when I thought she would be my wife. When Cross Holdings was nothing more than a struggling business, and I was just another ambitious man trying to build something great from the business that I inherited from my father. But back then, I couldn’tpete with Peter Watson."


    Cammy’s hands gripped the arms of her chair. "My father?"


    Richard nodded. "Your grandfather wanted Monica to marry Peter instead of me. He had the money, the connections. And I was... well, just a man with dreams. And then something happened."


    The air in the room shifted, thick with something unsaid.


    "What happened?" Cammy asked, her voice barely above a whisper.


    Richard hesitated, then leaned forward, his gaze locking onto hers. "Monica and I... we had aplicated rtionship. And I need you to understand that what I’m about to say, I don’t say lightly."


    He took a slow breath, letting the silence stretch before finally speaking the words that sent a chill down Cammy’s spine.


    "There’s a chance, Cammy, that you could be my daughter."


    The room spun. The walls seemed to close in on her, the weight of his revtion pressing against her chest like a crushing force.


    "No," she breathed, shaking her head. "That’s not possible!"