The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 245

Chapter 245

Ethan's POV

Shit.

Cynthia had caught me.

Caught me eating her food like a starving man who hadn't seen a proper meal in weeks—which, to be fair, I was.

But still.

The embarrassment burned hot in my chest.

I'd been trying so hard to maintain some semblance of dignity, some remnant of pride.

And she'd walked in to find me practically inhaling the chicken sauce she'd made, my eyes closed, savoring every bite like it was the last meal I'd ever eat.

Pathetic.

But when I looked at her, I saw something in her expression that made the embarrassment fade.

She looked… conflicted.

Like she had a thousand things she wanted to say but couldn't find the words.

Just like me.

The silence stretched between us, heavy with everything we weren't saying.

And I couldn't take it anymore.

"I'm sorry," I said.

The words came out rough, raw, catching in my throat.

Cynthia's eyes widened slightly, her breath catching.

She blinked rapidly, fighting back tears.

And seeing her like that—on the verge of crying, trying desperately to hold herself together—it hurt.

More than the malnutrition.

More than the betrayals.

More than any physical pain I'd ever felt.

I needed to say this.

All of it.

Before I lost my nerve.

"I'm sorry that I was such a douchebag toward you," I continued, the words tumbling out now. "I'm sorry I blamed you for what happened to Amber. For everything. It was all my fault, Cynthia. All of it."

The tears she'd been fighting broke free, spilling down her cheeks.

She covered her mouth with her hand, her shoulders trembling slightly.

And I wished—God, I wished—that I wasn't connected to all these drips and machines.

That I could cross the room to her.

Pull her into my arms.

Console her the way I should have been doing all along instead of pushing her away.

But I couldn't move.

All I could do was watch her cry.

And hate myself for being the reason.

I opened my mouth to say something else—to apologize again, to tell her I loved her, to beg her for another chance—

But the door opened.

We both turned sharply.

A nurse stepped inside, followed by a doctor.

Both wearing surgical masks that covered the lower half of their faces.

Both moving with quick, purposeful strides.

The door clicked shut behind them.

Something felt… wrong.

I couldn't put my finger on it at first.

But then I saw the nurse's eyes, which she was avoiding contact with me.

Sharp, dark and familiar.

Too familiar.

My stomach dropped.

"Mr. Walker," the nurse said, her voice muffled behind the mask. "I need to administer an injection into your IV line. Just a vitamin supplement to help with your recovery."

Her voice.

My vision blurred at the edges.

The room tilted.

I tried to fight it, tried to force my eyes to stay open, tried to stay conscious.

But the drug was fast.

Too fast.

My limbs went slack.

My head lolled back against the pillow.

And through the haze, I heard laughter.

Familiar. Cold. Sinister.

The nurse pulled down her mask.

Grace.

Of course it was Grace.

"Hello, Ethan," she said, her smile sharp and cruel. "Did you really think I'd let you get away with what you did to me?"

I tried to speak.

Tried to curse her.

Tried to scream for help.

But nothing came out.

Just a weak, strangled sound.

Grace leaned closer, her face inches from mine.

"History repeats itself, darling," she whispered. "Just like twenty years ago. Except this time, I'm going to finish what Jerome started."

Darkness closed in around me, thick and suffocating.

The last thing I saw was Grace's face.

Smiling.

Victorious.

And the last thing I heard was her laughter echoing in my ears as everything went black.