The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 271

Chapter 271

Cynthia's POV

I saw the sign WELCOME TO MISSFORD just as soon as I was about to complain to Miguel about how long we have spent on the road.

Relief crashed through me so powerfully I actually started crying.

We'd made it.

After everything — the kidnapping, the warehouse, the running, the hiding, the broken-down truck, the police checkpoint — we'd actually made it.

"Missford," I whispered, pressing my hand against the window like I could reach through the glass and touch the sign. "We're here. We're actually here."

Carmen turned in her seat to look at me, a gentle smile on her weathered face.

"Sí, mija," she said softly. "Ya llegamos."

Yes, my daughter. We've arrived.

Miguel grunted, his eyes still fixed on the road, but I could see the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.

Even he seemed relieved to have reached our destination.

As we crossed into the city limits, the landscape began to change.

The empty fields and dirt roads gave way to pavement, buildings, traffic lights.

Civilization.

Home.

I hadn't realized how much I'd missed it until this exact moment. Not the luxury of it — not the mansion or the cars or any of the things that came with the Laurent name — but the simple, ordinary fact of it. Streetlights. Shop fronts. People walking dogs and carrying groceries and going about their lives completely unaware that somewhere out there a man I loved was still tied to a chair in a warehouse. The normalcy of it should have been comforting. Instead it made everything feel slightly unreal.

"Where do you need to go?" Miguel asked, glancing at me in the rearview mirror. "¿A dónde te llevamos?"

Where do we take you?

"My house," I said immediately. "I'll give you the address. It's…"

I stopped.

Because I suddenly realized that Miguel and Carmen had driven me for four hours, had risked their safety helping me, had lied to police officers for me.

And I'd given them nothing in return.

Not even proper gratitude.

"Actually," I said, an idea forming. "When we get to my house, I would love to give you something."

Miguel frowned. "No es necesario…"

It's not necessary…

"Yes, it is," I interrupted firmly. "You saved my life. Both of you. And I can't — I can't let you go back to that village in that truck. It's not safe. It barely made it here."

Carmen laughed softly. "El camión ha sido bueno con nosotros."

The truck has been good to us.

"I know," I said. "But I want to give you one of my cars. A good one. Reliable. So you don't have to worry about breaking down on the side of the road again."

There was a beat of silence.

Then Miguel let out a short, disbelieving laugh.

"¿Un carro?" he repeated. "You want to give us a car?"

A car?

So close to my family.

So close to getting help for Ethan.

We turned onto a main street, traffic picking up around us — other cars, pedestrians, the familiar rhythm of city life.

Everything looked normal.

Like the world had kept turning while I'd been trapped in that nightmare.

Like nothing had changed.

But everything had changed for me, Ethan was still out there, still in that warehouse. Every minute I spent in this truck was another minute he was alone.

I saw the other car a split second before Miguel did.

It came out of nowhere.

Running a red light.

Speeding.

Headed straight for us.

"MIGUEL!" I screamed.

But it was too late.

Everything happened in slow motion.

Miguel jerked the steering wheel hard to the right, trying to swerve, trying to avoid the collision.

Carmen's scream filled the cab.