The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 252

Chapter 252

Ethan's POV

I barely had time to register Pascal moving toward me before his fist connected with my face.

Hard.

The impact was brutal, explosive, sending my head snapping to the side, pain radiating through my jaw and cheekbone.

I tasted blood immediately.

"Don't you ever talk to my mother like that again," Pascal snarled, his face inches from mine, his eyes burning with rage.

I spat blood onto the concrete floor and turned my head slowly back to look at him.

And I laughed.

It was a harsh, bitter sound, but I couldn't help it.

Because this was pathetic.

"You're a coward," I said, my voice rough but steady. "You've been hiding for years like a scared little rat. And now you're trying to steal what someone else built."

Pascal's expression darkened.

"Steal?" he repeated, his voice dangerously low. "Walker Industries belongs to me. I'm Grace's son. Her real son. Not some bastard child of a maid."

I grinned, even though it made my split lip throb.

He wanted a reaction. Wanted me rattled, off-balance, ashamed. And maybe once — years ago, when the word bastard still had the power to hollow me out from the inside — it would have worked. But I had built something. I had bled for something. And no amount of sneering from a man who had never once gotten his hands dirty was going to change that.

"You're lazy," I continued, ignoring the warning signs. "You never worked for anything in your life. Never earned anything. You just hide in the shadows and expect everything to be handed to you."

Pascal's jaw clenched.

"Shut up," he growled.

"Make me," I shot back.

That was all it took.

Pascal exploded.

His fists came down like hammers, one after another, slamming into my face, my ribs, my stomach.

I tried to brace myself, tried to absorb the blows, but tied to the chair with my hands bound behind me, there was nothing I could do.

Nothing except take it.

Each punch sent fresh waves of pain through my body. I counted them instinctively, the way you do when pain becomes too large to process as a whole — breaking it into pieces, one hit at a time, telling yourself you can survive just this one, and then just the next one. It was the only form of control I had left.

My vision blurred.

My ears rang.

Blood poured from my nose, my mouth, dripping onto my chest, onto the floor.

"STOP!" Cynthia screamed. "PLEASE, STOP! You're going to kill him!"

But Pascal didn't stop.

He kept hitting me, over and over, his rage completely unchecked.

Until finally, the force of one particularly brutal punch sent the chair tipping backward.

I crashed to the floor, my head slamming against the concrete.

Everything went white for a second.

Grace ignored me.

"And now," she continued, "Cynthia's going to be in so much trouble. Because her precious Laurent family is going to be looking for her. Her brothers. And of course…"

Grace's smile widened.

"Victoria Laurent," she said, her voice dripping with venom.

My heart stuttered. I snapped my eyes to Cynthia who was avoiding my eyes now. I was confused. What the hell is Grace talking about?

Grace leaned forward, her eyes glittering with malice.

"Oh, you didn't know?" she asked, reading my confusion. "You didn't know that Victoria and I go way back?"

I stared at her, my mind struggling to process.

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

Grace's smile turned cruel.

"Victoria Laurent and I were friends once," she said. "Best friends, in fact. Along with Eleanor Ferdinand. The three of us were inseparable in high school."

She paused, letting the words sink in.

The warehouse felt quieter suddenly. Even Pascal had gone still, stepping back slightly, as though this part of the story belonged entirely to his mother and no one else was permitted to breathe during it.

"Until Victoria stole the man I loved," Grace continued, her voice hardening. "Cynthia's father. He was mine, Ethan. And she took him from me."

My blood ran cold. This Victoria is Cynthia’s mother?

I turned to Cynthia again and she yet avoided my eyes again.

Victoria Laurent… Kevin Laurent… What the hell?