The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 213

Chapter 213

Ethan's POV

I didn't waste a single second.

The moment I ended the call with Cynthia, I was already moving — grabbing my keys, shoving my phone into my pocket, heading straight for the car.

Amber was at the Laurent mansion.

With them.

With Kevin Laurent. With God knows who else she'd invited into our son's life without my permission.

And I was done.

Done waiting. Done being patient. Done letting Cynthia dictate the terms of our son's life while she paraded him around her wealthy, perfect new world like some kind of accessory.

If she thought she could keep Amber there — in that house, with those people — she was out of her mind.

I drove faster than I should have.

The city blurred past my windows, streetlights streaking into long lines of gold and white. My hands gripped the steering wheel so tightly my knuckles ached. My jaw was clenched. My heart pounded with a mixture of rage and desperation that made it hard to think straight.

All I knew was that I needed my son.

Now.

The Laurent mansion wasn't far now after the distance covered, — twenty minutes on a normal night.

I made it in twelve minutes.

The gates came into view, tall and imposing, wrought iron twisted into elegant designs that screamed wealth and legacy and everything the Laurents represented.

I pulled up to the entrance and slammed on the brakes, my tires screeching slightly against the pavement.

Two security guards stood at the gate, both of them immediately alert, their postures shifting from casual to defensive the moment they saw my car.

Good.

Let them be on edge.

I rolled down my window and leaned out.

"Open the gate," I said sharply.

The taller guard stepped forward, his expression professional but firm. "I'm sorry, sir. This is private property. Do you have an appointment?"

"I don't need an appointment," I snapped. "My son is inside. Open the gate."

The guards exchanged a glance.

"Sir," the shorter one said carefully, "we can't let you in without authorization from…"

"I don't care about authorization," I cut him off, my voice rising. "My son is in there. Amber Walker. Eleven years old. He was brought here without my permission, and I'm here to take him home."

"Sir, we understand, but…"

"OPEN THE GATE!"

My voice echoed across the quiet street, sharp and commanding.

The guards didn't move.

They just stood there, hands resting near their radios, clearly debating whether to call for backup or try to de-escalate the situation.

I didn't give them the chance.

I leaned on the horn.

HOOOOOOONK.

The sound was deafening, cutting through the night air like a blade.

I held it down for five seconds. Ten. Fifteen.

Let the whole damn neighborhood hear.

Let Cynthia hear.

Because if they weren't going to let me in, she was going to have to come out and face me.

The guards were talking into their radios now, their voices low and urgent, but I didn't care.

I kept my hand on the horn.

HOOOOOOONK.

Movement caught my eye.

The front door of the mansion opened, and a figure stepped out.

My heart lurched.

For a second, I thought it was Cynthia.

Then the front door opened again.

And this time, it was Cynthia.

My breath caught despite myself.

She stood at the top of the steps, silhouetted by the warm light spilling out from inside the mansion. Her dress from the gala was gone — she'd changed into something simpler, more comfortable. Her hair was slightly disheveled, her face pale and exhausted.

But even now, even furious and drained, she looked…

I shoved the thought away violently.

No.

I wasn't going to let myself go there.

Not anymore.

Cynthia's eyes found mine immediately, even from across the distance.

And the look on her face…

Anger.

Disappointment.

Frustration.

All of it directed straight at me.

I didn't care.

She knew why I was here.

I took my hand off the horn, and the sudden silence felt almost deafening.

Cynthia descended the steps slowly, deliberately, her gaze never leaving mine.

The guards stepped aside as she approached the gate, clearly waiting for her instruction.

Bryan moved toward her, saying something I couldn't hear, but she waved him off without looking at him.

Her attention was entirely on me.

She stopped just inside the gate, her arms crossed over her chest, her expression hard.

For a long moment, we just stared at each other.