The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 145

Chapter 145

Ethan’s POV

“Ethan, what the fuck are you doing here? Get out!”

Her voice was hoarse, shredded raw, like it had been dragged through gravel. Anna staggered upright from the bed, water streaming down her hair, her clothes plastered to her skin, droplets splashing onto the floor as she shoved at my chest with weak but frantic hands.

“Get out!” she screamed again, nails scraping my shirt as she pushed me backward. “Get out of my house!”

“Anna, stop,” I said instinctively, holding my hands up, not touching her but keeping close enough in case she collapsed again. “You almost drowned. You were unconscious. I….”

Hayden’s cry cut through the room.

The sound hit me like a punch to the gut.

She was standing by the bed now, barefoot, her little hands clenched into fists, tears spilling silently down her cheeks as she watched her mother unravel.

She just stood there, trembling, like she’d learned that drawing attention only made things worse.

Anna looked over at Hayden, and instead of softening, she broke completely.

She started crying then. Loud, ugly sobs that ripped out of her chest as she shoved at me again.

“What do you want from me, Ethan?” she yelled, voice cracking. “What else do you want? Haven’t you done enough?”

“I didn’t come here to hurt you,” I said, my voice tight. “I came because you weren’t answering your phone. Because the door was open. Hayden was alone…”

“If only you had loved me!” she screamed, cutting me off. “If only you had loved me and let me help you, all of this wouldn’t be happening!”

That stopped me.

Help me?

“What do you mean?” I asked slowly. “What do you mean, Anna?”

She laughed then. Her voice was high-pitched, hysterical, completely unhinged.

“You really don’t know,” she said, wiping at her face with shaking hands. “You really don’t know anything.”

“Then tell me,” I demanded. “Tell me what the hell is going on. Why would you try to drag my name through the mud? Why destroy Walker Industries’ reputation? For what, Anna? For fame? For revenge?”

I gestured helplessly around the room—the wet floors, the overturned chair, the cereal scattered everywhere like neglect made visible.

“And for God’s sake,” I continued, anger bleeding through now, “you tried to kill yourself. You almost left your daughter alone in this apartment. What is wrong? What’s happening to you?”

Her expression hardened instantly.

“What’s happening,” she snapped, “is that you need to disappear from my house and leave me alone.”

She shoved me again, harder this time.

“And don’t talk to me about Walker Industries like it’s about to fall apart,” she continued viciously. “That company will survive just fine without you babysitting it.”

I stared at her, stunned. “You’re an executive in the company,” I said. “You know how solid it is. You know how fast it’s growing. The wine division is stronger than ever. The new tech line…”

“Oh, spare me that!” she shouted, throwing her hands in the air. “I’m tired of your corporate sermons. You think numbers and projections fix everything? You think growth charts make you untouchable?”

She turned suddenly, her gaze snapping to Hayden.

Hayden had shuffled closer, her tiny fingers clutching the hem of Anna’s trousers, her face streaked with dried tears. She looked up at her mother with that heartbreaking hope children have, the belief that love will show up if they just wait long enough.

“Mama…” she whispered.

Anna looked down at her.

And then…

She kicked her off.

Hard enough to send her stumbling backward, her small body flying across the room before she hit the carpet and slid, catching herself on her hands.

Her breathing became erratic.

She backed away from me, stumbling until her back hit the wall.

“You need to leave,” she whispered. “Right now.”

“I’m not leaving Hayden here,” I said.

Her head snapped up. “She’s my child!”

“And she’s not safe,” I replied flatly.

For a moment, I thought she might attack me.

Then she slumped against the wall, sliding down until she was sitting on the floor, her face buried in her hands, shoulders shaking.

“I didn’t plan for this,” she sobbed. “None of this was supposed to happen like this.”

“What was supposed to happen?” I asked.

She shook her head violently. “You ruined everything.”

I closed my eyes briefly, the weight of the situation crashing down on me all at once.

This wasn’t just a woman scorned.

She is stoned! She must be on drugs.

I turned and walked out of the apartment, my fingers already dialing the number.

Child Protective Services.

Enough was enough.