The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 150

Chapter 150

Ethan's POV

"I owe you no explanation, Ethan."

My mother's voice was sharp, deliberate, cutting through the air between us with surgical precision.

She turned away from me, her movements graceful and unhurried, like she had all the time in the world. Like we hadn't just been seconds away from something explosive. Like my son wasn't upstairs crying his heart out while my dog lay dead on the couch.

"Just go on and take care of your son," she added dismissively, already moving toward the hallway.

I stood there, rooted to the spot, my mind screaming at me to stop her—to demand answers, to force her to finish what she'd started.

But she was gone.

The click of her heels faded down the corridor, then disappeared entirely as a door closed somewhere in the depths of the house.

Silence crashed back in.

I stared at the empty doorway, my hands still clenched into fists at my sides, my pulse hammering so violently I could feel it in my temples.

What the hell just happened?

What was she about to tell me?

The frustration was suffocating. I'd been so close to understanding what she'd meant, to finally getting answers about the chaos tearing my life apart.

And then Rex died.

And Amber needed me.

And now she was gone, leaving me standing here with more questions than I'd started with and a growing dread that whatever truth she'd been about to reveal was worse than anything I'd imagined.

I exhaled shakily, running both hands through my hair, trying to force my brain to focus.

There was too much happening at once.

The company was imploding. Investors were pulling out. Anna had tried to kill herself and was spouting cryptic warnings about someone named Pascal.

My mother was laughing about my downfall like it was entertainment. Someone had been stalking me… stalking Cynthia, and I still didn't know why.

The choice on either to go upstairs and console Amber or return to work and deal with the issue shouldn't have been difficult.

But the weight of responsibility pressed down on me from all sides, making it hard to breathe, hard to think clearly.

I needed help.

Before I could second-guess myself, I pulled out my phone and dialed.

It rang twice before she picked up.

"Ethan?" Cynthia's voice came through, cautious but present.

Just hearing her say my name made something in my chest loosen slightly.

"Hey," I said, trying to keep my voice steady even though I could hear the exhaustion bleeding through. "I know you are angry with me right now, and you probably don't want to talk to me but… if you had a moment, can you please come spend some time with Amber? Rex died and…"

"I'll be there."

The words came so quickly, so decisively, that they actually stopped me mid-sentence.

"What?"

"I'll be there," she repeated, and I could hear movement on her end now.

Relief flooded through me so intensely it was almost painful.

"Thank you," I said quietly. "Thank you, Cynthia. I just… he's really upset, and I have to go to the office. There's an emergency and…"

"I know," she said gently. "It's okay. I've got him. Just go."

It was strange, wasn't it?

This same house had been a place she'd avoided for so long. And yet, the moment I mentioned Amber needed her, the moment I told her about Rex, she didn't hesitate.

Not even for a second.

My mind kept circling back to my mother's words.

Let's let the cat out of the bag, shall we?

What had she been about to tell me?

What truth had been seconds away from shattering whatever remained of my understanding of my own life?

I pulled into the underground parking garage of Walker Industries and killed the engine.

For a moment, I just sat there, staring at the concrete walls, trying to prepare myself for whatever waited upstairs.

Then I got out and headed for the elevators.

The building felt different as I walked through it, too quiet, too tense, like everyone was holding their breath.

Employees I passed in the hallway avoided eye contact. Whispers followed me. I could feel the weight of their judgment, their curiosity, their fear.

When I reached the executive floor, Margaret was waiting by my office door, her face pale and drawn.

"Mr. Walker…" she started.

"Not now," I said, brushing past her. "I need five minutes to…"

"Sir." Her voice was sharp enough to stop me. "There's already a board meeting happening. Right now. In the main conference room."

I froze.

Slowly, I turned to face her.

"What?"

"A board meeting," she repeated, her expression grim. "It started fifteen minutes ago."

Heat flooded through me with anger.

"Who the hell called for a meeting without my knowledge?" I demanded, my voice rising.