The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 305

Chapter 305

Bryan's POV

That bitch!

That fucking bitch!

My fist connected with the wall of my office—expensive imported drywall that probably cost more per square foot than most people made in a month—and pain exploded through my knuckles.

I didn't care.

Didn't even register the pain properly because the rage and fear consuming me were so much more overwhelming than any physical hurt.

Grace had been caught.

The word kept echoing in my mind, bouncing around my skull like a bullet ricocheting.

My phone was still in my other hand, the screen lit up with the call I'd just received from the private investigator I'd hired to tail Grace after she picked up the money.

The ten million dollars in cash I'd arranged to have waiting for her at the amusement center.

The money that was supposed to help her disappear forever, to ensure she'd never be found, never lead the police to Ethan, never compromise my carefully constructed plan.

Except I hadn't trusted her.

Of course I hadn't trusted her.

Grace Walker was a manipulative, self-serving criminal who'd throw anyone under the bus to save herself. I'd known that from the moment we'd made our deal in that alley.

So I'd taken precautions.

I'd inserted a tracker chip into one of the cash bundles—tiny, nearly undetectable, the kind of thing intelligence agencies used for covert operations. Cost me an extra fifty thousand to get it on such short notice, but it had been worth it.

And I'd hired a private investigator who specialized in discrete surveillance to follow Grace after she picked up the money.

Not to interfere. Not to stop her. Just to watch. To make sure she actually left Missford like she was supposed to. To confirm that she was gone, really gone, never coming back.

The tracker had worked perfectly.

I'd been monitoring Grace's location on my phone all morning—watching the little red dot move through the city, heading toward the highway that would take her out of Missford and toward the Canadian border where she'd said she planned to disappear.

Everything had been going according to plan.

Until the investigator called.

"Mr. Ferdinand, we have a problem."

His voice had been tight, professional, but I'd heard the underlying concern.

"What kind of problem?"

"Police. Multiple units. They're tailing her. Looks like they were already onto her location—this wasn't random. Someone must have spotted her and called it in."

My blood had run cold.

"Where is she now?"

"Heading east on Industrial Boulevard. Police are maintaining distance, probably waiting for backup before they move in. She doesn't seem to have noticed them yet."

"Can she get away?"

A pause.

"Not likely, sir. They've got at least four units following her now. Maybe more. If she tries to run, they'll just box her in."

I'd hung up and immediately started pacing my office, my mind racing through scenarios, trying to figure out how this had happened.

How had the police found her?

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