The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 292

Chapter 292

Ethan's POV

I barely noticed when the light started fading.

Didn't register the sun moving across the sky, didn't feel the temperature dropping as evening approached.

All I could see was her face. Cynthia’s face.

The memory had ignited something in my brain — not everything, not a flood of returned memories like I desperately wished for—but enough.

Enough to remember the curve of her jaw, the exact shade of her eyes, the way her blonde hair fell just to her shoulders.

I needed to get it down on paper before it faded.

Before the details blurred back into the fog that had consumed the last six months of my life.

I'd found paper in Prisca's room and a pencil, and I'd started drawing.

Over and over.

Sketch after sketch.

The first one was wrong — her eyes weren't quite right, too wide, too round.

The second was closer but her nose was off, too sharp.

The third was better. The fourth is even more so.

I kept going, my hand moving frantically across the page, erasing and redrawing, trying to capture exactly what I'd seen in that flash of memory.

Because if I could get her face right, if I could draw her accurately enough — maybe the police could help.

Maybe they could identify her. Find her. Bring her to me or tell me where to find her.

Maybe this was finally the key to getting home.

The light from the window had gone from golden to orange to deep purple before I finally looked up.

When did it get dark?

I glanced at the papers scattered around me—at least two dozen attempts, each one getting progressively closer to the image burned into my mind.

The latest one was good.

Really good.

Her eyes were right now—warm and expressive, holding depths I couldn't fully understand but recognized instinctively. Her smile was there too, small and soft, the kind that felt like a secret meant just for me.

Cynthia.

This was her.

This was my wife.

The door opened without warning.

I looked up to find Gavin standing in the doorway, his weathered face twisted with an expression I'd never seen before.

Deep, bitter disappointment.

"What are you doing?" he asked, his voice flat.

I scrambled to organize the papers, my heart suddenly pounding.

"Gavin," I said quickly. "I was going to come find you. Something happened today. I had a memory… a real, vivid memory of Cynthia."

I held up the latest drawing, excitement making my words tumble out faster.

"Look. This is her. This is what she looks like. I can see her now, Gavin. I can actually see her. And I thought if I could draw her face accurately enough, maybe the police could help me find her. Maybe they could identify her or…"

"Stop," Gavin interrupted, his voice hard.

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify