The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 237

Chapter 237

Anna's POV

I lay on the bed beside Pascal, staring up at the unfamiliar ceiling, my body still aching from what had just happened between us.

The room was quiet except for the sound of our breathing — his steady and calm, mine still slightly uneven.

I turned my head to look at him.

I hated that I'd let it happen.

But I hated even more that I didn't have a choice.

"What's the way forward?" I asked quietly, breaking the silence.

Pascal glanced back at me, his expression unreadable.

"My mother has the master plan," he said simply.

I frowned, sitting up slightly, pulling the sheet around myself.

"Your mother?" I repeated. "Grace?"

"Yes," Pascal said. "She's been orchestrating this for years. Everything that's happened—everything that's about to happen—it's all part of her design."

My stomach tightened.

"And what exactly is her plan?" I asked.

Pascal's lips curved into a faint, humorless smile.

"We're going to do what was done twenty years ago," he said. "The same thing that resulted in the whole incident back then."

I stared at him, confusion washing over me.

"What incident?" I asked. "What are you talking about?"

Pascal stood, moving toward the dresser, pulling on a shirt with calm, deliberate movements.

"You'll understand soon enough," he said. "My mother will explain it herself."

"Pascal…"

The doorbell rang.

Pascal paused, his head tilting slightly as if listening.

Then he turned back to me, his expression shifting into something almost amused.

"You should get dressed," he said. "Unless you want my mother to see you naked."

My heart stopped.

"Your mother?" I repeated, my voice rising. "Grace is here? Now?"

"Yes," Pascal said simply. "Get dressed"

Panic flooded through me instantly.

I scrambled off the bed, grabbing my clothes from where they'd been discarded on the floor, my hands shaking as I pulled them on as quickly as possible.

Grace.

Grace was coming inside.

The woman who blamed me for everything.

The woman who'd manipulated me, used me, and then planned to throw me to the wolves the moment things went wrong.

I barely had time to button my shirt before I heard the front door open.

The sound of wheels.

A wheelchair.

Then Grace's voice — cold, sharp, unmistakable.

"Pascal, my boy."

Before I could even process what had happened, Grace's hand shot out and grabbed a fistful of my hair, yanking me down violently.

I screamed.

"You bitch!" Grace hissed, her voice shaking with fury as she pulled harder, her nails digging into my scalp. "This is all your fault!"

"Grace… stop…" I gasped, trying to pull away, but her grip was iron.

"If only your parents had done their job properly years ago," Grace snarled, jerking my head back, "none of this would be happening! Do you understand me? NONE OF IT!"

"Mom…" Pascal started, moving toward us.

But Grace wasn't finished.

She yanked my hair again, forcing me to look at her, her face twisted with rage.

"You were supposed to finish this!" she screamed. "You were supposed to make sure she was gone! And instead, you failed! Just like your pathetic parents failed!"

"Let go of me!" I shouted, tears streaming down my face now, my hands clawing at her wrists.

Pascal finally reached us, grabbing Grace's arm and prying her fingers out of my hair.

"That's enough," he said firmly, pulling her back.

Grace released me with one final shove, and I stumbled backward, my hand flying to my scalp, pain radiating through my head.

I stared at Grace, my chest heaving, my mind reeling.

"What are you talking about?" I demanded, my voice trembling. "What do you mean my parents were supposed to finish something? What job?"

Grace's expression shifted again, the fury fading into something colder.

Calmer.

More calculated.

She smoothed her hands over her lap, composing herself as if nothing had just happened.