The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 131

Chapter 131

Nikolai’s POV

It had been a hell of a ride for me these past few months.

I sat in my car, parked in a hidden corner not too far from Ethan’s beach house — far enough not to be noticed, close enough that I could see the outline of the building clearly. The engine was running low, a quiet hum beneath my thoughts, the windows rolled up, the glass slightly fogged from the cool morning air meeting the warmth inside.

Dawn was breaking.

The sky over the ocean was painted in soft pinks and golds, the waves rolling lazily onto the shore as if nothing in the world was wrong. As if my chest wasn’t tight with emotions I didn’t know what to do with.

I’d been here all night.

Watching. Waiting. Torturing myself.

I genuinely loved Cynthia.

The realization had come too late—long after denial had stopped working. From the very first moment I saw her, something had shifted inside me, something I’d tried to bury under logic and reason and pride.

It had been my father’s birthday celebration at her restaurant in Paris — Maison Cynclair.

I remembered how reluctant I’d been to attend. Another family obligation. Another long night of polite smiles and empty conversation. I’d expected nothing more than good food and endurance.

Then she’d walked out of the kitchen.

Not dressed to impress or trying to command attention. Just… herself.

Chef’s whites. Hair pulled back. A faint flush on her cheeks from the heat of the kitchen. She’d spoken passionately about the dishes she’d prepared for my father, explaining flavors and techniques with confidence and precision.

And I’d been done for.

The way she carried herself was attractive. There was intelligence in her eyes. The quiet authority she had without needing to demand it. The way everyone around her naturally listened.

I’d wanted to ask her out that night.

Wanted to stay longer. To hear her laugh. To learn who she was beyond that brief interaction.

But I hadn’t.

I’d told myself the age difference mattered. Told myself she was out of my league and I was being ridiculous for developing feelings over one encounter.

So I buried it.

Work. Travel. Women who were easy, uncomplicated, and never stayed long enough to matter.

Until I saw her again.

Trending on my phone. A new professor at Missford University. The article had included a photo, and I’d recognized her instantly.

Cynthia.

I’d stared at that screen longer than I cared to admit, something settling in my chest that felt suspiciously like fate.

A second chance.

That was what I’d thought it was.

I’d been excited—absurdly so. Had started planning how to approach her properly this time. Professionally at first. Carefully. Respectfully. Letting something real grow instead of rushing it.

Then I found out she was married.

That had discouraged me more than I’d expected. I had principles. I didn’t chase married women, no matter how broken their marriages were rumored to be.

But then I learned more.

Ethan Walker. The separation. The three years apart. The looming divorce.

And everything shifted again.

She wasn’t really married—not in any way that mattered anymore. She was free. Emotionally, at least. And I had a chance.

So I pursued her.

Carefully at first. Then with more confidence as I sensed her walls lowering. As I felt her listening when I spoke. As I caught the moments where her eyes lingered on me just a second too long.

Confessing my feelings yesterday had been brutal.

I’d laid myself bare in a way I rarely did, convinced that I stood a chance.

And now…

Now I was sitting outside Ethan Walker’s beach house, my hands clenched loosely on the steering wheel, my thoughts spiraling.

I’d watched their shadows through the upstairs windows all night.

And I wasn’t ready to give up.

Cynthia deserved better than Ethan Walker. She deserved someone who saw her value from the start, not only when he was on the brink of losing her.

Someone who wouldn’t take her for granted.

Someone like me.

I straightened in my seat just as movement near the house caught my attention.

The front door opened abruptly.

Cynthia rushed out.

My breath hitched.

She was fully dressed now, her movements sharp and hurried, nothing like the softness I’d watched through the window hours earlier. She didn’t look back as she crossed the threshold, her heels sinking slightly into the sand as she moved.

Instinctively, I ducked lower in my seat.

A second later, Ethan appeared behind her, half-dressed, struggling into his shirt as he followed her out. He looked frantic, like a man scrambling to stop something already slipping through his fingers.

They spoke.

I couldn’t hear the words because my engine was running, the windows closed, and they were just far enough from the car that whatever Cynthia said reached me only as muffled sound.

But whatever it was… it stopped him.

Ethan froze.

He didn’t follow her further.

He just stood there, stunned, watching as Cynthia continued on, her steps quick and determined, her legs digging into the sand as she put distance between herself and the house.

My heart pounded.

I watched until she disappeared from view, until only Ethan remained, standing alone outside the beach house like a man who’d just lost something precious.

A slow smile tugged at the corner of my mouth, this was it.

This was my cue.