The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 257

Chapter 257

Cynthia's POV

I was exhausted.

Bone-deep, soul-crushing exhausted in a way I'd never experienced before.

My wrists ached from the ropes cutting into them. My shoulders screamed from being held in the same position for hours. My head throbbed where I'd been hit, the pain pulsing in time with my heartbeat.

And I was so, so cold.

The warehouse offered no protection from the winter chill. The concrete floor had long since leached all the warmth from my body, and my thin clothes—the ones I'd thrown on that morning when I thought I was just dropping Amber off at home—did nothing to keep me warm.

But the physical discomfort was nothing compared to the exhaustion in my mind.

The fear.

The uncertainty.

The constant, gnawing terror of not knowing what would happen to us.

Light was beginning to filter through the high windows of the warehouse now—pale, gray dawn light that told me we'd been here all night.

An entire night.

Tied to chairs.

In the middle of nowhere.

With no idea if anyone was looking for us.

Or if they'd ever find us in time.

I turned my head slightly to look at Ethan.

He looked worse than I felt.

His face was a mess of dried blood and bruises, his left eye swollen nearly shut, his lip split and crusted over. His breathing was still shallow and labored—probably from cracked ribs, if Pascal's beating had been as brutal as it looked.

But despite everything, he was awake.

Alert.

And for the past several hours, we'd been talking about… us.

About everything we'd never said.

Everything we'd been too proud or too scared or too stubborn to admit.

"Can I ask you something?" Ethan said suddenly, breaking the silence that had fallen between us.

I looked at him. "What?"

"Do you have feelings for Bryan?" he asked.

The question was so absurd—so completely ridiculous given our current circumstances—that I actually laughed.

It wasn't a happy laugh.

More like a half-hysterical sound that bordered on a sob.

But it was still a laugh.

"No," I said, shaking my head. "No, Ethan. I don't have feelings for Bryan."

Ethan's expression shifted slightly, something that might have been relief flickering across his bruised face.

"He's been nice to me," I continued. "Really nice, actually. Especially when I needed someone to talk to. And I know… I know… that he has feelings for me. He made that pretty clear."

I paused.

"But I don't feel the same way," I said quietly. "I never have."

Even if it made me vulnerable.

Even if it gave him the power to hurt me one last time.

"Because," I said quietly, my voice trembling, "I'm still in love with you."

Ethan's breath caught.

"I never stopped loving you, Ethan," I continued, tears sliding down my cheeks now. "Even when you pushed me away. Even when you treated me like I didn't matter. Even when I left and started a new life in Paris and tried so hard to move on… I never stopped."

My voice broke.

"And I never will," I whispered.

The warehouse was completely silent except for the sound of our breathing.

Ethan stared at me, his expression a mixture of shock and pain and something else I couldn't quite name.

"Cynthia," he said, his voice hoarse.

"I know it's stupid," I said quickly, the words tumbling out now. "I know you probably don't feel the same way. I know there's too much history, too much pain, too many things we can't undo. But we might die here, Ethan. And I don't want to die without you knowing the truth."

I took a shaky breath.

"I love you," I said again, more firmly this time. "I have always loved you. And even if you don't love me back—even if you never loved me the way I loved you—I need you to know that."

Ethan's eyes were glistening now, tears cutting tracks through the dried blood on his face.

"Cynthia," he said again, his voice breaking completely. "I…"

He stopped, struggling to find words.

Then he said the last thing I expected.

"I love you too."