The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 2

Chapter 2

Cynthia's POV

I left the hospital in a daze, the doctor's words still echoing in my skull louder than any headache.

I had six cruel months to live and everything and everyone was just acting so normal like I had not just been handed a death sentence.

What was I supposed to do with six months?

My phone buzzed in my purse. I pulled it out with shaking hands.

‘Where are you? You've been gone for hours. Don't forget the organic vegetables Mr. Brown prefers.’

It was my mother-in-law with another demand on an endless list.

No "how was your appointment." No "are you okay."

I stood on the corner, staring at the message, when something across the street caught my eye. A café with floor-to-ceiling windows. The kind of trendy place with overpriced lattes and desserts that I'd never been allowed to visit.

"Waste of time," Ethan would say whenever I suggested it. "We have coffee at home."

But apparently not a waste of time for him and Anna.

Amber sat between them, laughing at something Anna said. She had her arm around his shoulders, pulling him close for a photo. Ethan held up his phone, angling it to get the best shot.

"Perfect!" I couldn't hear him, but I could read his lips. "One more. Amber, look at Aunt Anna."

My son gazed up at Anna with pure adoration.

She ruffled his hair, planted a kiss on his forehead, and Ethan captured it all, his expression warm and indulgent.

They looked like a family.

A perfect, happy family.

I remembered last month when I'd asked Amber if we could take a photo together for his school project.

He rolled his eyes and muttered, "Do I have to? Mom, you're not like Lilian’s mom."

Lilian’s mom — the glamorous news anchor who looked like she belonged on a red carpet instead of the PTA. She was everything I wasn’t: elegant, accomplished, adored by all the parents.

The café table was covered with treats — cupcakes, cookies, colorful macarons. Anna fed Amber a bite of something chocolate, and he giggled.

When was the last time my son laughed with me?

When was the last time Ethan had looked at me the way he was looking at them — like they were precious, worth his time, worth his smile?

My hands moved on their own, pulling up Ethan's contact, pressing call.

Through the café window, I watched him glance at his phone. I watched his expression shift from content to irritated and he swiped to decline the call.

The rejection was a physical blow.

I called again.

This time he answered, but he didn't look happy about it. He said something to Anna and Amber, then stood and walked toward the back of the café, phone pressed to his ear.

"What?" His voice was sharp, impatient. "I'm busy, Cynthia."

"I..." My voice cracked. "I need to talk to you. It's important."

"Everything is always important with you." I heard the eye roll in his tone. "Can this wait? I'm in the middle of something."

"No, it can't wait. Ethan, please, I went to the hospital today and…"

"The hospital, right. How did that go? Did they tell you that you're fine and just need to relax like I said?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Look, we'll talk about this later. Did you clean Anna's apartment like I asked?"

The question hit me like a slap.

"What?"

"Anna's apartment. I asked you to clean it this morning. Did you go?"

I looked through the window at Anna, laughing at something Amber said, looking so beautiful and carefree in her designer dress. Why do I always have to do things for her like some maid, while she eventually takes all of the glory?

"I... no. I was at the hospital, Ethan. I've been trying to tell you…"

"Cynthia, I don't have time for this right now." His voice hardened. "You need to go there this afternoon. And don't forget to make dinner for her afterward. She's been working so hard on the Bennett project, the least you can do is help out. She's family."

"Ethan…"

"I have to go. We'll talk when I get home."

The line went dead.

I stood there, phone pressed to my ear, staring at my husband as he walked back to the table. Anna said something, and he laughed, shaking his head. Probably telling her I was being dramatic again.

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