The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 165

Chapter 165

Cynthia’s POV

I felt weak… lightheaded, hollow.

Yet somehow, both Ethan and Bryan were hovering over me, each of them gripping an arm, steering me toward the chair like I was on the verge of collapsing. I wasn’t dying. I’d simply given blood. Still, the tension between them crackled so fiercely it felt charged, like a live wire stretched too thin.

When I was finally seated, Ethan barely let go before turning on the nurse, his composure already unraveling. He pressed her again and again, desperation bleeding into his voice as he demanded confirmation of blood types. Then, as if that wasn’t enough, he insisted on getting tested immediately.

On the spot.

The nurse looked exhausted — professionally patient, but clearly at the end of her tolerance for Ethan’s spiraling. With a sharp nod and a clipped sigh, she agreed. Moments later, Ethan’s blood was being drawn, his jaw clenched as if the needle wasn’t the thing causing him pain.

While we waited, the silence didn’t last.

It never did with them and I wondered what has changed between them within 3 years of my absence.

Devian burst through the doors like he always did… loud, unfiltered, utterly incapable of reading a room.

“Alright,” he announced, glancing around. “Someone needs to explain to me what the hell is going on.”

His eyes landed on Ethan first, seated with cotton wool pressed against his arm. Then his gaze slid to me… sitting far too close to Ethan, my hand resting unconsciously on the edge of his chair.

Devian frowned.

And then, with absolutely no regard for timing, tact, or emotional sensitivity, he turned to Bryan and asked… loudly, bluntly, unapologetically…

“Have they started fucking again?”

Silence.

“What the fuck is wrong with you, Devian?” Ethan snapped.

He exhaled sharply through his nose but didn’t deny it. His jaw was clenched so tight I thought his teeth might crack.

The nurse glanced between all four of us—Ethan seated and barely holding himself together, Devian standing far too casually with his hands in his pockets, Bryan hovering like he didn’t know whether to intervene or disappear, and me, frozen beside Ethan, wishing the floor would swallow us whole.

“We’ll need a little more time,” the nurse said briskly. “Please wait here.”

The moment she was gone, Devian scoffed.

“I’m just saying,” he continued, completely unbothered, “I’m concerned for my dear friend here. One minute, you don’t want anything to do with her. You’re talking divorce papers, drawing boundaries like the Great Wall of China. Next thing I know, I blink and suddenly the two of you are standing so close you look like you just had sex in the supply closet. It’s weird.”

My face burned.

So Ethan had still let them believe he didn’t want me. Cowardly. Convenient. Coming from a man who couldn’t keep his hands off me at the beach house.

Bryan shifted uncomfortably beside me. “Devian,” he said quietly, but there was an edge to his voice now. “That’s enough.”

Devian lifted a brow. “Is it?”

“Yes,” Bryan said, firmer this time. “It is.”

But the damage had already been done.

I could hear it in Bryan’s voice. See it in the way his shoulders sagged slightly… like Devian had voiced something Bryan had been desperately trying not to think.

Ethan straightened slowly, his eyes dark as they locked onto Devian.

“Enough,” he said sharply. “You’re not blaming Cynthia for things you don’t understand.”

“I’m not blaming her,” Devian argued. “I’m stating facts.”

“You don’t know the facts,” Ethan snapped. “You don’t know half of what’s been going on.”

“Then tell me!” Devian fired back. “Because right now, it feels like I don’t matter anymore.”

Before Ethan could answer, a stern voice cut through the tension.

“Excuse me.”

The nurse had returned, her expression disapproving.

“This is a hospital,” she said coolly. “Patients are resting. Lower your voices… or step outside.”

Ethan inhaled slowly. “Sorry.”

Devian raised his hands. “Fine. Decorum. Noted.”

The nurse turned back to Ethan, flipping through the chart.

“Mr. Walker,” she said neutrally, “we have the preliminary results.”

Ethan straightened instantly. “And?”

She hesitated for a second. “It appears,” she said carefully, “that your blood type is indeed type A.”