The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 158

Chapter 158

Cynthia's POV

My heart was still hammering from hearing Grace's voice behind me, from the realization that she'd been standing there the entire time, listening to every word I'd said to Nathaniel.

The look on her face was sinister — not angry, not panicked, but coldly calculating in a way that made my blood run cold.

This wasn't the polished, proper Grace Walker I'd known during my marriage.

This was someone else entirely.

Someone dangerous.

"You misunderstand me, Cynthia," Grace said, her voice eerily calm despite everything. She gestured toward the veranda with her free hand, the one not holding her phone. "Can we speak on the veranda? Privately?"

Every instinct I had screamed at me to refuse.

To run and get as far away from this woman as possible.

But I couldn't.

"Cynthia?" Nathaniel's voice came urgently through the phone still pressed to my ear. "Cynthia, don't…"

"I'll call you back," I said quietly.

"No," Nathaniel said sharply. "Don't you dare hang up. Leave the line open. I'm sending…"

I ended the call.

Grace smiled slightly, like she'd just won a point in a game I didn't know we were playing.

"Smart girl," she said. "Now, shall we?"

She turned and walked toward the veranda, her movements unhurried, confident.

Like she knew I'd follow.

And I did.

Because I was stupid enough to think I could handle this.

Stupid enough to think I could keep her talking long enough for help to arrive.

Stupid enough to believe I had any control over this situation at all.

The veranda was exactly as I remembered it, expensive outdoor furniture arranged perfectly, potted plants positioned with mathematical precision, the railing overlooking the expansive back garden one story below.

Grace stopped near the railing, turning to face me with that same cold smile.

"So," she said conversationally, "what exactly did you hear that made you call me a bitch, Cynthia?"

Her tone was almost amused, like we were discussing something trivial over afternoon tea.

But I could see the tension in her shoulders. The way her fingers gripped her phone just a little too tightly.

She was coiled.

"You know what I heard," I said, trying to keep my voice steady even as fear clawed at my chest. "You were talking to your secret son, Pascal. About ending Ethan’s life."

Grace tilted her head slightly. "And that bothers you?"

"Of course it bothers me!" I snapped, anger suddenly overriding my fear. "Ethan's your son! How can you…"

"He's weak," Grace cut in, her voice hardening. "Just like his father was. Soft. Sentimental. Too concerned with being good to see what needs to be done."

"What needs to be done?" I repeated incredulously. "You mean destroying everything he's built? Handing his company over to some bitter stranger who…."

"Pascal is not a stranger," Grace said coldly. "He's my firstborn. My real son. The one I should have been able to raise properly if Harold hadn't…"

She stopped herself, jaw clenching.

"So you've been the architect of this all along, haven't you?" I said, the pieces finally clicking into place with horrible clarity. "The sabotage at my restaurant. The embezzlement at Walker Industries. The shooting at the banquet. All of it was you."

Grace stumbled backward, surprised, and I launched myself at her.

We collided hard, both of us fighting for control, grappling desperately.

Grace's phone clattered to the ground.

I tried to break free, to run, but she caught my hair and yanked me back.

Pain exploded across my scalp.

I twisted, throwing my elbow back into her ribs.

She gasped, her grip loosening just enough for me to spin around.

We were both breathing hard now, circling each other like animals.

"You can't win this," Grace said, her voice ragged but determined. "Even if you get away from me, Pascal will finish what we started. Ethan will lose everything. And you…."

She lunged again.

I dodged left, but she caught my arm and pulled me off balance.

We crashed into the railing together, both of us half over the edge, the metal digging into our backs.

For a terrifying moment, we were suspended there, locked together, teetering on the edge of the drop.

I could see the stone patio below, the geometric patterns of the garden, the distance that would definitely break bones if not worse.

"Let go!" I screamed, trying to push her away.

"Not without you," Grace snarled back.

And then…

"AHHHHHHH!"