The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 265

Chapter 265

Cynthia's POV

Carmen was incredibly kind to me.

After I'd eaten the simple meal she'd brought — bread, cheese, some fruit that tasted sweeter than anything I'd had in days — she told me to rest in the tent while she and Miguel worked the farm.

"Descansa," she said gently, patting my shoulder. "You've been through so much."

I nodded, grateful, and watched as she and Miguel headed back out into the fields with their tools.

But I couldn't rest.

Not really.

My mind was too active, too full of fear and worry and desperate hope.

Ethan was still out there.

Still with Grace and Pascal.

And I had nothing—nothing—to help him.

No phone. No money. No way to contact my family, the police, anyone.

I was completely cut off from the world.

I sat in the tent for maybe twenty minutes, listening to the distant sounds of Carmen and Miguel working, before the stillness became unbearable.

I needed to do something.

Sitting here feeling helpless was driving me insane.

So I stood, brushed the dirt off my clothes as best I could, and walked out into the fields.

Carmen and Miguel were working a patch of land near the edge of their property, pulling weeds, turning soil, harvesting what looked like root vegetables.

Carmen looked up as I approached, surprise crossing her face.

"¿No estás descansando?" she asked.

Aren't you resting?

"I can't," I admitted. "Can I help? Por favor. I need to do something."

Carmen studied me for a moment, then smiled warmly.

"Claro," she said. "Puedes ayudarme aquí."

Of course. You can help me here.

She handed me a small basket and showed me which vegetables were ready to harvest, which ones to leave alone, how to pull them without damaging the roots.

It was simple, repetitive work.

But it was grounding.

It gave my hands something to do, my mind something to focus on besides the terror churning in my gut.

We worked in companionable silence for a while, the sun climbing higher in the sky, warming the air slightly.

Then Carmen spoke.

"Me recuerdas a mi hija," she said softly.

You remind me of my daughter.

I looked up at her, surprised.

Carmen's expression was wistful, her eyes distant.

"Antes de que se casara y se fuera a Missford," Carmen continued. "Ella solía ayudarme así. En los campos. Siempre tan trabajadora."

Before she got married and left for Missford. She used to help me like this. In the fields. Always so hardworking.

"Your daughter sounds wonderful," I said quietly.

Carmen smiled. "She is. I miss her every day. But I'm glad she's happy. She has a good husband. A good life."

Miguel, who'd been working a few rows over, walked closer and wiped the sweat from his brow.

"¿Estás casada?" he asked suddenly, looking at me.

Do you have children?

"Yes," I said, a sad smile crossing my face. "I have a son. He's eleven years old."

Carmen gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.

"¿Once años?" she repeated. "Pero te ves tan joven. ¿Cuántos años tienes?"

Eleven years? But you look so young. How old are you?

"I'm thirty-two," I said.

Carmen's eyes went even wider.

"¿Treinta y dos?" she repeated, looking at Miguel in disbelief. "Entonces... te casaste a los veinte años."

Thirty-two? So you got married at twenty.

I nodded slowly, memories flooding back.

Twenty years old.

Barely out of high school.

Still figuring out who I was, what I wanted, what my life was supposed to look like.

And Harold Walker had pushed for the marriage.

Insisted on it, actually.

The wedding had been delayed slightly because of Harold's illness and Ethan had married me as his father's dying wish.

And Ethan, for all his faults, had never been able to deny Harold anything.

"Yes," I said quietly, my voice thick with emotion. "I got married at twenty. Right after high school."

Carmen reached out and squeezed my hand gently.

"Tan joven," she murmured. "So young."

Miguel grunted, his expression thoughtful.