The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 197

Chapter 197

Ethan’s POV

I sank lower in the chair, my spine curving inward as if my body itself was trying to collapse under the weight pressing down on me. My fists were clenched so tightly that my knuckles screamed in protest, a dull, throbbing pain I welcomed because it grounded me.

The video feed played relentlessly on the screen in front of me, every frame cutting into me like shards of ice. I couldn’t look away. I wouldn’t let myself. My eyes burned, stinging with unshed tears as I watched the moments unfold — moments that should have been simple, safe, mundane. Moments that should never have mattered this much. And yet here they were, unraveling into chaos because of my own failures.

There he was.

My son.

Completely engrossed in his gadget, little fingers swiping across the screen with practiced ease, earbuds snug in his ears, blocking out the world. He looked calm. Comfortable. Safe. Totally unaware of the storm that had erupted around him, unaware of the terror clawing through my chest as I watched him from a few minutes into the past.

I and Bryan had been distracted — God, even thinking it made my jaw tighten, distracted by Nikolai’s call for Cynthia. Distracted by the noise, the movement, the damn spectacle of the event. And that bitch usher — the same woman who had smiled politely and explained there was a “designated area for kids”—had taken that exact moment to guide Amber away.

My stomach turned violently.

I felt sick.

I hated myself in that moment with a ferocity that scared me. Every step I had taken tonight, every decision I had justified, every excuse I had made, had led directly to this lapse.

I had left my son alone. Distracted by my need to see Cynthia, to monitor her movements, to watch her interactions with Nikolai, to reassure myself of things I had no right obsessing over.

And in doing so, I had forgotten the most important thing.

The footage continued, following them slowly down the hall. Amber walked beside the woman obediently, his small legs moving quickly to keep up. Every few steps, he glanced up at her, his mouth moving as he spoke. I could almost hear his voice in my head — that curious, trusting tone, the endless questions he always asked. Why here? Where are we going?

The cameras switched angles as they moved, catching them from overhead, then from the side. The hallway grew emptier. Quieter. Less public. My pulse hammered harder with every step they took farther away from where I’d last seen him in real time.

Then they reached the parking lot.

Relief should have surged through me then. I should have felt my heart leap forward with the knowledge that he was close, that cars and guards and exits meant he could be found quickly. I should have been reassured.

But then the video…

Glitched.

The feed stuttered.

The bastard.

He stood too close to her, one hand resting on her shoulder, leaning in as he whispered something I couldn’t hear. Whatever he was saying wasn’t working. I could tell by the way her shoulders trembled, by the way her eyes never stopped moving. His presence made my blood boil. My fists clenched again, nails biting into my palms.

Cynthia looked at me from across the room for a split second.

Panic flashed in her eyes.

Then anger.

She would definitely blame me for bringing Amber here, and I blame myself too. But I’m so done with trying to get her back.

I could feel my chest tighten, my muscles coiling like springs pulled too tight, ready to snap without warning.

I slammed my palm down on the desk in front of me, the sound sharp and explosive, rattling the monitors. The screens shook. One flickered briefly. The other security personnel flinched, startled by the sudden outburst. Bryan turned toward me, concern etched deep into his face, clearly trying to ground me, trying to make me breathe, trying to get me to think rationally.

“Where the hell did she take him?!” I barked, my voice raw, echoing off the walls.

I slammed my hand on the table again, harder this time, the monitor flickering with static.