The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 286

Chapter 286

Bryan's POV

Pascal had been found, orr at least, there was a lead on his location.

The text Cynthia had shown me before I left the restaurant flashed through my mind as I drove through the darkening streets of Missford.

Possible sighting near the docks. Moving teams into position now.

Normal people—would have felt relief at that news.

Hope that finally, after five months of searching, answers were within reach.

But I wasn't normal people.

And relief was the last thing I felt.

How could Pascal be so careless?

So sloppy?

Five months of successfully staying hidden, and now he was spotted near the docks like some amateur criminal who didn't know how to cover his tracks.

It was almost insulting how easy he'd made it for them.

I gripped the steering wheel tighter, my jaw clenching.

This wasn't supposed to happen.

Ethan wasn't supposed to be found.

I'd been so careful. So patient. Playing the role of the concerned friend, the supportive presence, the man who just wanted to help Cynthia through her grief.

And it had been working.

Victoria and my mother had already been discussing Cynthia's future — specifically, her future after a year had passed without Ethan being found. They'd practically been planning the timeline for her to move on, to start fresh with someone new.

With me.

Victoria preferred Nikolai, of course. The business alliance between Cross Energy and Laurent Group was too tempting for her to ignore. More money, more power, more influence.

But I had advantages Nikolai didn't.

History. Connection. The fact that I'd known Cynthia and Ethan since high school, had been part of their lives in ways Nikolai never could be.

And I'd been working on removing Nikolai from the picture entirely.

Subtly. Carefully.

Planting seeds of doubt about his intentions. Suggesting to Victoria that Nikolai might be using Cynthia's vulnerability for his own gain. Making sure I was always there first, always more present, always more attentive.

It was working.

Slowly, but it was working.

And in a few more months — six, to be precise, until that one-year mark—Cynthia would be ready to move forward.

With me.

Not Nikolai.

Me.

But that only worked if Ethan stayed missing.

If Ethan stayed dead.

Because if Ethan came back—if he was found alive, if he and Cynthia reconciled, if they rebuilt their broken marriage—then everything I'd been working toward would disappear.

All my careful planning. All my patient waiting. All the time I'd invested in becoming indispensable to Cynthia.

Gone.

I couldn't let that happen.

Wouldn't let that happen.

I'd grown too fond of Cynthia. Too attached. Too... obsessed, if I was being honest with myself.

The way she smiled when she talked about her restaurant. The way her eyes lit up when she discussed flavor profiles and technique. The way she'd leaned on me these past months, trusting me, depending on me.

She was supposed to be mine.

And Ethan—dead or alive—wasn't going to take that away from me.

…

I didn't know who Pascal was, exactly.

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