The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 263

Chapter 263

Cynthia's POV

The ride in the old man's truck was painfully silent.

The vehicle itself looked like it had been held together with rust and prayers — rattling and groaning with every bump in the dirt road, the seat springs digging into my back, the smell of old gasoline and hay filling the cramped cab.

But I didn't care.

All that mattered was getting to the police station.

Getting help.

Saving Ethan.

Miguel kept his eyes on the road, his weathered hands gripping the steering wheel, his expression unreadable.

After several minutes of silence, he spoke.

"¿De verdad fuiste secuestrada?" he asked, his tone skeptical.

Were you really kidnapped?

"Sí," I said firmly. "Yes. I was."

Miguel glanced at me briefly, then back at the road.

"Este es un pueblo muy tranquilo," he said slowly. "Nunca hemos oído algo así. La policía estará sorprendida."

This is a very peaceful village. We've never heard anything like that. The police will be shocked.

I nodded, not trusting my voice.

A peaceful village.

Which meant the police here probably had limited resources, limited experience with serious crimes.

But they were still police.

They could call for backup. Contact the authorities in Missford. Send help to the warehouse.

That's all I needed.

Just someone… anyone who could help me save Ethan.

The truck turned onto a slightly more paved road, and in the distance, I saw buildings.

Small, simple structures that looked decades old, with peeling paint and sagging roofs.

A general store. A small church. A few houses scattered along the main street.

And there, at the end of the road, a squat, single-story building with faded paint and a sign that read: POLICÍA.

Miguel pulled the truck into the small dirt lot beside the station and killed the engine.

"Aquí estamos," he said. "Espero que encuentres ayuda."

Here we are. I hope you find help.

"Gracias," I said, my voice thick with emotion. "Thank you so much."

I opened the truck door and climbed out, my legs shaky but functional, and headed toward the entrance.

Miguel followed a few steps behind, clearly still uncertain about all of this but unwilling to leave me completely alone.

I pushed open the door to the police station and stepped inside.

The interior was small and cramped, with yellowing floors, flickering fluorescent lights, and a wooden counter that looked like it had been installed sometime in the 1970s.

Behind the counter sat two officers in slightly rumpled uniforms, one was older, with graying hair and a thick mustache and the other was younger, thinner, scrolling absently through his phone.

I opened my mouth to speak when I noticed someone else who was talking to the older police man. I recognised that clothes and hairstyle.

Pascal.

My entire body went rigid, ice flooding through my veins.

No.

No, no, no…

Pascal was gesturing, describing something to the older officer, his hands moving to indicate height, build, features.

"Ella es alta," Pascal was saying. "Pelo corto. Ojos oscuros. Probablemente cubierta de tierra. Secuestró a mi hermana. Es peligrosa."

She's tall. Short brown hair. Dark eyes. Probably covered in dirt. She kidnapped my sister. She's dangerous.

He was describing me.

My exact description.

And he was telling the police that I was the kidnapper.

That I was dangerous.

The officer was nodding, taking notes, looking concerned.

Then Pascal reached into his jacket and pulled out a thick envelope.

He slid it across the counter.

The officer opened it, glanced inside, and his expression shifted immediately.

Money.

Pascal was bribing them.

The officer smiled and nodded enthusiastically.

"No se preocupe, señor," the officer said. "Si la vemos, la detendremos inmediatamente."

Don't worry, sir. If we see her, we'll detain her immediately.

Pascal smiled. "Gracias. Es muy importante que la encuentren antes de que lastime a alguien más."

Maybe dangerous.

"Mira," Miguel said firmly, starting to stand. "Voy a llamar a los oficiales y ellos pueden—"

Look, I'm going to call the officers and they can…

"NO!" I grabbed his arm again, panic surging through me. "Please. Please. Don't call them. They're corrupt. They took his money. They'll hand me over to him."

Miguel tried to pull away, his patience clearly running out.

"Suéltame," he said sharply. "Estás loca."

Let me go. You're crazy.

He was going to shout.

He was going to call the officers.

And they were going to arrest me and hand me over to Pascal.

"Please," I begged, tears streaming down my face now. "Please just take me back to your farm. I'll leave. I won't bother you. I'll find another way. Just please don't give me to them."

Miguel hesitated, his expression conflicted.

He looked at me, I’m sure he noticed the terror in my eyes, the bruises on my face, the rope burns on my wrists.

And something in his expression softened slightly.

"Por favor," I whispered again. "Please."

Miguel let out a long, frustrated sigh.

Then he muttered something under his breath that sounded like a curse.

"Está bien," he said finally, his voice resigned. "Vamos. Pero después de esto, no quiero verte nunca más."

Fine. Let's go. But after this, I never want to see you again.

Relief flooded through me so powerfully I nearly collapsed.

"Gracias," I choked out. "Thank you."

Miguel grabbed my arm and pulled me toward the exit, moving quickly, keeping his head down.

We slipped out of the police station and back to his truck without anyone noticing.

And as we drove away, I looked back at the station one last time.

Pascal had beaten me here.

He'd already poisoned the well.

Which meant I couldn't trust the local police.

Couldn't trust anyone in this village.

I was on my own.