The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 162

Chapter 162

Cynthia’s POV

Later, after the whole banter between Bryan and Ethan, Ethan agreed that Nathaniel would take Amber. Amber also succumbed and Nathaniel drove him away.

I stood on the front steps long after the car had disappeared down the road, my arms folded tightly around myself as though I could physically hold myself together. Amber’s small wave through the back window replayed in my mind on a loop. He hadn’t cried. That somehow made it worse. Children shouldn’t be that composed in moments like this. They shouldn’t have to be.

Ethan came to stand beside me, close enough that I could feel the warmth radiating from him.

“Get in the car,” he said quietly. “I’ll drive you to the hospital.”

I nodded, too drained to argue, too hollowed out to resist. Tonight had taken everything out of me — fear, anger, adrenaline, restraint. I had nothing left to give.

Bryan hovered a few steps away, his presence tense and restless. He didn’t look pleased. And I thought it could be because I was a little more closer to Ethan than before, did he really still think I do not deserve Ethan? I didn’t want to feel like I deserve him either. Ethan has done nothing but lie continuously and he is more consistent in his lies than I imagined.

“I’ll follow behind,” he said finally. “I’ll probably call Devian too. He needs to know what’s going on.”

Ethan didn’t respond verbally. He simply opened the passenger door for me, his movements efficient, controlled. Bryan’s jaw tightened, but he said nothing more.

There was something going on between the both of them, I could tell. And I hope it is not because Ethan wants me back and Bryan thinks I am not good enough for Ethan, or it is not justice for their sweet Anna, and her sweet daughter.

The car ride started in silence.

Streetlights passed in rhythmic intervals, casting fleeting shadows across Ethan’s face. His hands were steady on the wheel, but I could see the tension in his shoulders, the way his jaw clenched and unclenched as if he were grinding down thoughts that threatened to explode.

I knew I couldn’t keep everything bottled up anymore. He deserved to know what happened with Grace.

“Ethan,” I said softly.

He glanced at me briefly, then back at the road. “Yeah.”

“I need to tell you everything. What I know. What I heard. ”

His grip tightened slightly on the steering wheel. “I figured as much,” he said. “Tonight feels like one long revelation.”

I took a breath, then another, steadying myself.

I started from the beginning. From Nathaniel’s investigation into the sabotage at Maison Cynclair. The paper trails. The money that had been siphoned out quietly, methodically. The connection to Walker Industries that shouldn’t have existed, but did.

I told him about Anna. About how deep it went. About how desperate she’d been. About the man who had been doing all the evil behind the scenes and possibly manipulating Anna - I just don’t get why he loved her so much - and same man Grace was definitely talking to over the phone.

Then I said the name.

“Pascal Walker.”

“All this time,” he muttered. “All this fucking time. I knew there was something fundamentally wrong”

He started the car again, driving the rest of the way in silence, the weight of what I’d said settling heavily between us.

The hospital loomed ahead, harsh and bright against the night sky.

Inside, everything was sterile and fast-moving. A nurse spotted Ethan immediately and looked visibly relieved.

“Mr. Walker,” she said, hurrying over. “Thank God you’re here.”

“How is she?” Ethan asked.

“She’s lost a significant amount of blood,” the nurse replied. “The doctors are preparing her for surgery, but we need a transfusion immediately.”

“I am type A,” Ethan said without hesitation. “I can probably donate blood.”

“Oh no, you both are related, you can’t donate to each other” the nurse said, as she busily went through her paper file, “Don’t you know your mother is type O?”

Ethan frowned, looking a bit confused and surprised, “My father was type B… so if my mother is type O, how come I am type A?”

That was also somewhat confusing for me too, “Is that even possible”