The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 28

Cynthia’s POV

I’d survived brain surgery, humiliation, and three years of rebuilding myself from nothing, but standing in this glittering gala, watching Anna weave through the crowd like a predator stalking prey, my stomach twisted in a way that felt almost familiar.

Almost like the old days, when I’d been too weak to fight back.

I’d just returned from the restroom, then my gaze met Anna’s. She stood near one of the massive floral arrangements, champagne glass in hand, watching me with that calculating expression I knew too well. The crowd swirled around us, oblivious to the tension crackling between two women who’d once called each other sisters and are entangled with the same man. 1

I made to walk past her, pretend I was fascinated by the orchids and kept moving.

But she shifted, blocking my path with the practiced ease of someone who’d spent years positioning herself exactly where she

needed to be.

“Cynthia,” she cooed, her voice dripping with false sweetness. “Didn’t expect to see you here. Or should I say, didn’t expect him to let you off the leash tonight?”

Her champagne glass caught the light, the golden liquid swirling lazily, just like the venom behind her smirk.

I kept my expression neutral. “Excuse me?”

“You and your F1 racer boyfriend,” she continued, louder now, making sure nearby guests could hear. “Everyone’s talking, you know. The abandoned wife turned plaything. Must be nice, being kept by a billionaire racer.” She gave me her evil annoying smile. “I guess we can’t all earn things honestly, can we?”

The words were meant to cut deep, to reduce everything I had built to a mere transaction, painting me as the kind of woman I had never been: one who traded her body for comfort and security, if only she knew about my identity as the sister of the

Laurents.

I’d heard worse and survived worse. But the audacity of hearing it from Anna, the woman who’d systematically destroyed my marriage from the inside, still had the power to ignite something hot and dangerous in my chest.

I smiled slowly, trying to control the rage building up inside me “Careful, Anna. Your desperation is showing. It’s not a good look.”

Her face twitched, just enough for me to know I’d hit a nerve.

Out of the corner of my eye, I caught her glancing across the room. Following her gaze, I saw Ethan standing about twenty feet away, deep in conversation with a foreign investor. He was completely oblivious to the storm brewing behind him, gesturing animatedly about something

I noticed that shift in Anna’s expression. That flicker of calculation I’d witnessed countless Iites before.

I knew that look. Had learned to recognize it the hard way, through years of being its target. She was about to do something theatrical, something designed to make me look like the villain while she played the victim

Before I could open my mouth to warn her off, her hand shot out and gripped her own dress

One sharp tup, I heard the sound of tearing silk sliced through the ambient music and conversation.

“Cynthia, please!” Anna’s voice rose to exactly the right pitch, loud enough to carry but trembling enough to sound gemune She staggered backward, clutching the torn fabric against her chest with shaking hands “stop this! I said I’m sorry for what happened! Please don’t hurt ine again!”

The effect was immediate and devastating.

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Conversations died mid–sentence with people’s attention drifting towards us. Within seconds, we had an audience of at least fifty people, all staring at the spectacle Anna had created.

She played the perfect victim, trembling under the spotlight she’d orchestrated, tears already welling in her eyes.

I stood frozen, disbelief warring with fury. Was she really doing this? Again?

Ethan was on her in an instant, his protective instincts kicking in like a reflex he’d never managed to outgrow. “Anna…” He grabbed her shoulders gently, his face full of concern. “What happened? Are you alright?”

“She… she grabbed me,” Anna stammered, pointing a shaking finger in my direction. “I tried to convince her to come back home… and she… she tore my dress! Everyone saw…” Her voice broke on a perfect sob.

A sharp, humorless laugh escaped me before I could stop it. “You deserve an award, Anna. Really, that performance was almost convincing.”

Ethan turned to me, confusion and frustration flashing across his face. “Cynthia… this isn’t the place for this…”

I let out a wry laugh, after three whole years of being away, this is the first thing he is going to say to me, how ridiculous.

“She wants an audience, let’s give her one.” I cut in, my voice low but slicing through the tension like a blade.

I glanced toward the far end of the ballroom where Jace, one of my security detail, stood watching. He’d been positioned there specifically for this reason, Kevin and I had discussed the possibility of Anna trying something the moment we’d spotted her and Ethan.

Jace met my eyes and I gave him a slight nod.

Seconds later, the massive screen that had been looping sponsor logos and gala highlights flickered, then it showed the real- time footage from Jace’s discreet body camera. The angle was perfect, capturing everything from the moment Anna had approached me to this very second.

Hervenom–laced insults played back in crystal clarity. Her deliberate glance toward Ethan, checking to make sure he was watching. The moment she gripped her own gown with both hands. The theatrical rip and fake stumble backward. The perfectly timed cry for help.

Gasps rippled through the ballroom like a wave. Someone whispered, “Oh my God…” Another voice muttered, “She really did all this”

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