The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 303

Chapter 303

Cynthia's POV

I left the Laurent mansion earlier than usual that morning, hoping to be at the restaurant when Julian arrived home later.

I wanted to be there for him when he faced Nathaniel and our mother. Wanted to provide whatever support I could during what was bound to be one of the most difficult conversations of his life.

But I also needed the distraction.

Needed something to do with my hands and my mind besides obsessively checking my phone for updates about Pascal or worrying about Ethan or replaying my fight with Nathaniel over and over.

The restaurant had become my sanctuary over the past few months—the one place where I could focus on something concrete and controllable. Flavors, techniques, presentation. Things that made sense. Things I could actually manage.

When I arrived, I was surprised to find the lights already on and the door unlocked.

My staff didn't usually arrive this early.

I pushed through the entrance, calling out, "Hello?"

And there, sitting at one of the tables near the front windows with a cup of coffee and the morning paper, was Bryan.

I stopped short, blinking in surprise.

"Bryan?" I said. "What are you doing here? You never come during work hours."

He looked up from his paper and smiled—one of those warm, genuine smiles that reminded me why we'd been friends for so long.

"Good morning, Cynthia," he said, standing and setting down his coffee. "I know this is unusual timing. I just wanted to be one of the first people to wish you a good morning today."

The statement was odd.

Sweet, maybe, but odd.

Especially since I'd already been wished good morning by at least a dozen people—the household staff at the mansion, the security guard who'd unlocked the building for me.

"Well, good morning to you too," I said, managing a smile. "How long have you been here?"

"Not long," Bryan said. "Maybe twenty minutes? I brought coffee from that place you like on Fifth Street. Got you one too."

He gestured to a second cup sitting on the table, still steaming.

The gesture was thoughtful.

Maybe a little too thoughtful.

"Thank you," I said, picking up the cup and taking a sip.

Perfect. He knew exactly how I took it—two sugars, a splash of cream.

We fell into easy conversation as I moved around the restaurant, checking that everything was set up properly for the day.

Bryan followed me, coffee in hand, asking questions about the menu, complimenting the design choices I'd made, being charming in that effortless way he had.

It felt... nice.

Comfortable.

I made my way into the kitchen, pulling on my chef's coat and starting my usual pre-service checks.

Ingredients organized. Stations prepped. Equipment functioning.

Bryan leaned against the counter, watching me work with an expression I couldn't quite read.

"You really love this, don't you?" he said quietly.

I looked up from the vegetables I was inspecting.

"What?"

VERIFYCAPTCHA_LABELVerify