The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 126

Chapter 126

Cynthia's POV

It was Mr. Brown's event day, and I'd spent an embarrassing amount of time getting ready.

I told myself it was just professional courtesy—dressing appropriately for a business event. But as I stood in front of my bedroom mirror, adjusting the deep pink silk gown that hugged my curves before flowing elegantly to the floor, I knew I was lying to myself.

I wanted to look stunning. Wanted to take Ethan's breath away. Wanted to remind him that I was no longer the invisible housewife he'd taken for granted.

The dress had a tasteful V-neckline and a slit up one thigh that showed just enough leg to be sophisticated rather than provocative. I'd paired it with simple diamond earrings and strappy silver heels that added three inches to my height.

My hair was swept up in an elegant chignon, a few strategic tendrils framing my face. My makeup was flawless—smoky eyes, nude lips, a subtle glow that made my skin look luminous.

I looked good. Really good.

"Wow," Helen said from my doorway, making me jump. "You look absolutely stunning. Is this really just a business event?"

"It's an important one" I said defensively.

"Uh-huh. And the fact that Ethan will be there has nothing to do with the amount of effort you've put into your appearance?"

I glared at her reflection in the mirror. "Can we not?"

Helen laughed and came into the room, sitting on my bed. "I'm just saying, there's nothing wrong with wanting to look good for your husband…"

"Soon-to-be ex-husband," I corrected.

"...or for making him regret every moment he didn't appreciate you," Helen finished. "You look like a billion dollars, Cynthia. Go knock him dead."

I grabbed my clutch and wrap and headed downstairs, where my security detail was already waiting.

The drive to the Harbor View Estate took about twenty minutes, and with each passing mile, my nervousness grew. I was going to see Ethan. We were going to spend an entire evening together, presenting as a couple, pretending we were still the happy Mr. and Mrs. Walker.

And some traitorous part of me was looking forward to it.

When we pulled into the parking lot of the elegant venue — a converted mansion overlooking the harbor—I immediately spotted Ethan's car.

And Ethan himself, leaning against it, clearly waiting for me.

He was wearing a perfectly tailored tuxedo that made him look like he'd stepped out of a James Bond film. His hair was styled, his jaw freshly shaven, and when he saw my car pull up, his face transformed into an expression of such open desire that I felt heat flood through my body.

I stepped out of the car, and Ethan straightened, his eyes traveling from my heels up to my face with undisguised appreciation.

"Cynthia," he breathed. "You look... God, you look incredible."

"Thank you," I said, trying to maintain some dignity even though my heart was racing. "You clean up well yourself."

He smiled and offered his arm.

"Shall we go inside? As husband and wife?"

The question was casual, but the intensity in his eyes was anything but.

Deep down, I laughed at the idea. Laughed at how much I actually liked it, how right it felt to have him looking at me like this, treating me like something precious.

But I frowned at him, pulling my professional mask into place.

"We're here for business, Ethan. Nothing more."

I walked past him toward the entrance, my head held high, my wrap clutched around my shoulders against the December evening chill.

But I could hear his footsteps behind me, quick and determined, trying to catch up. He was taller, with longer legs, and within seconds he was beside me, matching my pace.

"At least let me escort you properly," he said, offering his arm again. "People are watching. It would look strange if we arrived separately when we're both listed as guests."

He had a point. I could already see other guests in evening wear heading toward the entrance, some of them glancing our way with interest.

Reluctantly, I took his arm.

The moment my hand touched his sleeve, something electric passed between us. Ethan's arm tightened, pulling me slightly closer, and we walked toward the entrance together.

I could see it in the way people's heads turned, in the whispers that followed us, in the envious glances from other women and the appreciative looks from men.

We looked like what we were supposed to be: a power couple. Successful, attractive, perfectly matched.

The lie was beautiful.

Before I could protest, Ethan was leading me onto the floor, pulling me into his arms with practiced ease.

His hand settled on my waist, mine rested on his shoulder, and we began to sway to the music.

"I've missed this," he murmured, his breath warm against my ear. "Missed holding you. Missed being close to you."

"Ethan…"

I wanted to pull away. Wanted to maintain the walls I'd so carefully constructed. Wanted to remember all the reasons I was divorcing him.

But his arms felt good. Felt right.

We danced in silence, the music swelling around us, other couples fading into the background until it felt like we were the only two people in the room.

I was so focused on the feeling of being in his arms, so caught up in the confusion of my own emotions.

I started to pull away from Ethan, suddenly uncomfortable with how close we were, how vulnerable this position made me feel.

But just as I moved, just as I began to create distance between us, Ethan pulled me closer — hard and sudden, yanking me against his chest with enough force to knock the breath from my lungs.

And at the exact same moment, I heard something very loud and ear deafening behind my ears. So close I felt the percussion of it, the sharp crack splitting the air where my head had been just seconds before.

A waiter behind us, a young man who'd been passing with a tray of drinks—dropped to the floor. The tray clattered to the floor, champagne glasses shattering, the sound somehow louder than it should have been.

That sound that passed my ears was a fucking gunshot and the bullet that had been meant for me had hit him instead.

Blood bloomed across his white shirt. His eyes went wide with shock.

I screamed.

The sound ripped from my throat, primal and terrified, as the full horror of what had just happened crashed over me.

Someone had just tried to kill me.

If Ethan hadn't pulled me close at that exact moment, I would be dead.

The event became catastrophic instantly.