The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 204

Chapter 204

Kevin's POV

I tried calling Cynthia again.

The phone rang once. Twice. Three times.

Then voicemail.

Her voice — calm, professional, recorded weeks or months ago when everything was simpler played through the speaker. "Hi, you've reached Cynthia. I can't take your call right now, but please leave a message and I'll get back to you as soon as possible."

I hung up without leaving one.

My chest felt tight.

She must be having a good time at that gala with Nikolai, but here I was, sitting outside a restaurant, about to confront my brother about something I still wasn't sure I wanted to know the truth about.

Because some part of me — some stubborn, irrational, desperate part needed to know if the photo was real.

If Julian was really…

I couldn't even finish the thought.

I stared at the restaurant through the windshield, its warm lights spilling onto the sidewalk, the doorman greeting patrons with practiced courtesy.

My hands were still gripping the steering wheel.

I forced myself to let go.

You came all this way, I told myself. Just go inside. See for yourself.

I took a deep breath, opened the car door, and stepped out into the cool night air.

…

The restaurant was exactly as upscale as its reputation suggested.

Soft lighting. Classical music playing quietly in the background. Tables spaced far enough apart to ensure privacy. Servers moved gracefully between them, attentive but unobtrusive.

The hostess greeted me with a polite smile. "Good evening, sir. Do you have a reservation?"

"No," I said, my voice steadier than I felt. "I'm… looking for someone."

Her smile didn't falter. "Of course. Feel free to look around."

I nodded and moved past her, scanning the room.

And then I saw them.

Julian.

Sitting in a corner booth, partially hidden by a decorative partition but still visible if you knew where to look.

And across from him…

The man from the photo.

My stomach dropped.

It was real.

The photo hadn't been faked. This wasn't AI. This wasn't some malicious fabrication designed to ruin Julian's reputation.

This was real.

They weren't kissing now—thank God, I didn't think I could handle seeing that in person—but they were sitting close. Too close. Their hands were on the table, not quite touching but close enough that the intimacy was unmistakable.

Julian was smiling.

Not the polite, controlled smile he wore at family dinners or hospital functions.

A real smile. Soft. Unguarded. Happy.

The kind of smile I hadn't seen on his face in years.

My heart pounded violently against my ribs.

I stood there for a moment, frozen, trying to decide what to do.

Turn around. Leave. Pretend I'd never seen this. Let Julian have his privacy, his secret, his life.

But I couldn't.

I'd come this far.

And more than that—Julian was my brother.

Whatever this was, whatever truth I was about to uncover, he deserved better than me running away from it.

I released his hand and turned back to Julian.

My brother looked like he wanted the floor to open up and swallow him whole.

"Kevin, I…" he started, his voice shaking.

"You're gay," I said quietly.

It wasn't a question.

Julian froze.

For a long moment, he didn't speak. Didn't move. Just stood there, staring at me with wide, terrified eyes, waiting for judgment, for anger, for rejection.

I took a deep breath.

"I'm going to see you at home," I said, keeping my voice as calm and neutral as I could manage.

Julian blinked. "Kevin…"

"We'll talk there," I continued. "Not here."

He opened his mouth to say something else, but nothing came out.

I glanced briefly at Tony, who was watching me carefully, his expression unreadable.

Then I turned and walked away.

…

The drive back to the Laurent mansion felt like the longest journey of my life.

My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles ached. My jaw was clenched. My thoughts were a chaotic mess, colliding and fragmenting before I could make sense of any of them.

Julian was gay.

My brother.

My brilliant, accomplished, deeply private brother.

Gay.

The word felt strange in my mind, foreign and familiar at the same time.