The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 112

I got back from work and Anna was still there with Amber and Hayden.

They were waiting for Mrs. Daniels, who was yet to serve dinner. I’d texted her earlier to hold off until I arrived home – I wanted at least one meal with my son, even if it meant sharing the table with Anna.

Amber approached me with a warm hug the moment I walked through the dining room door, and so did little Hayden, toddling over on unsteady legs with her arms outstretched.

“Daddy!” Hayden called, and the word still felt wrong in my ears.

Anna didn’t spare me a glance, her attention fixed on her phone as she scrolled through something with sharp, aggressive swipes. I honestly didn’t care.

I expected her to react this way over the fact that I insisted Cynthia picked up Amber instead of her.

Mrs. Daniels served dinner–roasted chicken, vegetables, mashed potatoes. Simple, comforting food that Amber loved.

We ate in near silence, the only sounds the clinking of silverware against plates and Hayden’s occasional babbling.

Amber got up early, pushing his half–finished plate away.

“May I be excused?” he asked politely.

“You barely ate anything,” I said, concerned. “Are you feeling alright?”

“I’m full, Dad. Mom bought me ice cream earlier.” His face lit up at the mention of Cynthia. “She picked me up from school and

we had the best time.”

Something warm expanded in my chest at his happiness, even as I noticed Anna’s knuckles whitening around her fork.

“Alright, son. Go on.”

Amber practically ran from the dining room, and I heard his footsteps pounding up the stairs toward his bedroom.

As soon as Amber left, Anna started.

“Are you planning to get back with Cynthia?”

The question hung in the air, loaded with accusation and hurt.

I took a bite of my dinner, chewing slowly while I considered my response. Then I took a deep breath.

“Yes, Anna. Cynthia is my wife.”

She let out a wry scoff, her fork clattering against her plate. “After everything I’ve done? I’ve loved you, sacrificed my time for you, waited for you, hoped that you would finally see me someday and yet… you have been waiting for her this whole time.”

Her voice was rising now, becoming shrill with emotion.

“Oh, you were pretending the whole while, weren’t you, Ethan? You loved her all along. Then why did you lead me on? Why did you let me believe…”

I didn’t know if I should finally let the cat out of the bag, but it was way overdue.

“Lead you on?” I set down my fork and looked at her directly. “You knew I loved Cynthia from the very beginning. You knew, and yet you bulldozed your way in between us with your cunning devices.”

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Anna’s face went pale, then flushed red.

I sighed, the words I’d been holding back for so long finally pouring out.

“Anna… twenty years ago, I met Cynthia in a warehouse where we were kidnapped. We were both tied up, our legs and hands bound, hurting. We were fucking scared teenagers – I was fifteen, she was just twelve at that time. But she was brave enough. She consoled me, reassured me, made me feel loved and made me get over that traumatic attack after we were released.”

The memory was still vivid in my mind – Cynthia’s small voice in the darkness, telling me stories to keep me calm, promising me we’d get out, that everything would be okay.

“Despite the fact that she had lost her memory in that attack and couldn’t locate her family, she never ceased to make me feel loved and put me first. At fifteen, I begged Dad to adopt her so she wouldn’t be sent to some foster home. And then you showed up.”

Anna’s expression was unreadable now, frozen somewhere between shock and fury.

“Coincidentally, your parents were unfortunately killed during the rescue operation, and Dad felt pity for you and adopted you too. And everything changed.” I leaned forward, my voice hardening. “You made sure I saw Cynthia as the terrible person. You set her up every time staged situations to make her look bad, twisted her words, poisoned my perception of her. You ended up making me hate the one person who’d saved me.”

—

Anna burst out laughing–a harsh, manic sound that made the hairs on the back of my neck stand up.

“So you knew I did all that?” she said, her eyes glittering with something dangerous. “You are such a good pretender”

“I actually didn’t know. I was so dumb not until she left and I started seeing your true intentions.” I admitted. “I started connecting the dots. I had the space to see clearly without your constant presence, your constant manipulation.”

She kept laughing like I was cracking a joke.

“You did a very good job gaslighting me and making me do things for you, including hurting Cynthia,” I continued, my voice steady despite the rage simmering beneath the surface like magma waiting to erupt. “I thought Cynthia was who you painted her to be–cold, selfish, ungrateful. I believed every lie you fed me.”

I could see the gears turning in her head, already trying to figure out how to manipulate this situation, how to twist my words

back around.

But I wasn’t done.

“I still forgave you,” I said, my voice taking on a bitter edge. “Because I took you as my sister and felt bad that you were lonely. That Cynthia got all the favor from Dad while you were treated like the afterthought. The pity adoption.”

Anna flinched at that description, her face contorting with pain. I wanted her feel a fraction of what she’d put Cynthia through all these years.

“Dad loved Cynthia more,” I continued, pressing on that wound deliberately. “We both knew it. He saw something special in her -the bravery, the resilience, the way she’d kept me calm during those terrible hours in that warehouse. He adopted her because he wanted to. He adopted you because he felt guilty that your parents died during our rescue.”

“Stop it,” Anna whispered.

“You’ve spent twenty years trying to punish Cynthia for being loved. For being wanted. And you used me as your weapon to do it.

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“That’s not…”

“You did a good job compelling me to act like I was the father of Hayden,” I interrupted, my voice hard. “And I did it out of pity, I didn’t want the world to see you as …” I took deep breath, trying to hold back the words.

My voice dropped lower, heavier with the weight of old guilt I’d carried for twenty years like chains around my neck.

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