The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 269

Chapter 269

Cynthia's POV

I didn't sleep.

I lay in that small bed with the patchwork quilt pulled up to my chin, staring at the ceiling, watching shadows shift and dance across the worn floral wallpaper as the hours crawled by.

Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Ethan.

Alone in that warehouse with Grace and Pascal.

And every time I drifted close to sleep, the nightmares came.

Dreams of the past—our wedding, our first years together, the moments when things had been good, when I'd believed we could be happy.

And then the darker memories.

Amber choking.

Anna crying crocodile tears.

Ethan looking at me like I was a stranger.

Like I was the enemy.

I woke gasping more than once, my heart pounding, my chest tight with fear and guilt.

By the time pale morning light started filtering through the thin curtains, I'd given up on sleep entirely.

I sat up, my body aching, my head pounding, my eyes burning from exhaustion and tears.

But I couldn't rest until I got to Missford and I found help. Until Ethan was safe.

I got dressed quickly in Carmen's daughter's old clothes, splashed some water on my face from the basin in the corner, and went out to find Miguel and Carmen.

They were in the kitchen, moving slowly, eating a simple breakfast of bread and coffee.

"Buenos días," Carmen said gently when she saw me.

Good morning.

"Buenos días," I replied, my voice tight. "Are you ready? ¿Están listos? Can we leave soon?"

Miguel looked up from his coffee, raising an eyebrow.

"Acabamos de levantarnos," he said. "We just woke up."

"I know," I said, trying to keep the desperation out of my voice. "But we have a four-hour drive ahead of us. And I… I need to get to Missford as soon as possible. Please."

Carmen exchanged a look with Miguel.

"Déjala, Miguel," Carmen said softly. "Está preocupada por su esposo."

Let her be. She's worried about her husband.

Miguel sighed and took another long sip of his coffee.

"Está bien," he said finally. "Nos vamos en media hora."

Fine. We'll leave in half an hour.

Half an hour felt like an eternity.

I paced outside by the truck, my hands shaking, my mind racing through worst-case scenarios.

What if we're already too late?

What if Ethan's already dead?

What if I never get to tell him I love him again?

Finally, Miguel and Carmen emerged from the house, moving at what felt like an agonizingly slow pace.

Carmen carried a small bag, probably with food for the trip.

Miguel locked the door behind them and pocketed the key.

"Vamos," Miguel said, gesturing toward the truck.

Let's go.

I climbed into the passenger seat immediately, my heart pounding with a mixture of relief and anxiety.

Miguel and Carmen got in, and Miguel turned the key in the ignition.

The engine sputtered once.

Twice.

Then roared to life.

I let out a breath I didn't know I'd been holding.

"Cuatro horas," Miguel said, glancing at me. "Four hours. Maybe less if the roads are good."

What was that?

Miguel's expression shifted from calm to concerned as he pressed harder on the gas pedal.

But nothing happened.

The truck continued to slow.

Until finally, it came to a complete stop right in the middle of the road.

My heart leaped into my throat.

"No," I whispered. "No, no, no…"

Miguel turned the key in the ignition.

The engine sputtered weakly but didn't catch.

He tried again.

Same result.

"M****a," Miguel muttered under his breath.

Shit.

"What's wrong?" I asked, panic rising in my chest. "¿Qué pasa? What's wrong with the truck?"

Miguel got out and opened the hood, peering inside, his expression growing darker by the second.

Carmen and I climbed out too, standing on the side of the empty road, staring at the broken-down truck.

"¿Qué es?" Carmen asked her husband.

Miguel shook his head, his jaw tight.

My entire world tilted.

The truck was broken.

We were stranded.

In the middle of nowhere.

With no way to get to Missford.

And Ethan was dying.