The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 308

Chapter 308

Ethan's POV

The countryside gradually gave way to more populated areas as we drove closer to Missford.

Small farms became clusters of houses. Dirt roads became paved streets. The isolation I'd been living in for six months slowly dissolved with every mile.

I sat in the back seat of Carmen and Miguel's car, my hands pressed against my knees to keep them from shaking, my heart racing with anticipation and anxiety and desperate hope.

Miguel was driving carefully, conscientiously following every traffic law, his weathered hands steady on the wheel.

Carmen kept turning around to check on me, offering encouraging smiles and occasional reassurances in broken English.

"Is okay," she'd say. "Soon you see your wife. Soon everything is better."

I wanted to believe her.

Desperately wanted to believe that once I reached Missford, once I found Cynthia, everything would somehow fall into place.

But anxiety kept creeping in around the edges of my hope.

I forced the thoughts away and focused on the passing scenery instead.

We'd been driving for about an hour when I saw a police checkpoint ahead up.

Two patrol cars parked across both lanes, officers standing beside them, flagging down vehicles for inspection.

My stomach tightened with unease.

The last time I'd dealt with police, they'd laughed at me and thrown me out of their station.

But this was different, I told myself.

This was just a routine checkpoint. They'd check our IDs, maybe search the car, and let us through.

Nothing to worry about.

Miguel slowed the car and pulled to a stop when one of the officers gestured for us to halt.

The officer approached the driver's side window, and my blood ran cold.

I recognized him.

The older officer with the graying hair and thick mustache — one of the two who'd mocked my drawing of Cynthia, who'd asked if I was mentally stable, who'd physically escorted me out of the station.

He leaned down to look through Miguel's window, his eyes scanning the interior of the car.

And when his gaze landed on me in the back seat, I saw recognition flash across his face.

He straightened abruptly and said something to his partner — the younger officer I also recognized from the station.

They both stared at me, then huddled together, whispering urgently and gesturing toward the car.

Miguel glanced at Carmen, confusion written across his face.

"¿Qué está pasando?" he murmured.

What's happening?

The older officer returned to the window, his expression now hard and suspicious.

"Everyone out of the vehicle," he ordered in Spanish, then repeated in heavily accented English for my benefit. "Now. Hands where we can see them."

Miguel's confusion deepened into alarm.

"¿Hay algún problema, oficial?" he asked carefully.

Is there a problem, officer?

"OUT OF THE CAR," the officer shouted, his hand moving to his weapon. "ALL OF YOU. NOW."

The younger officer had drawn his gun, pointing it at our vehicle.

My heart was hammering now, panic and confusion warring in my chest.

What the hell is happening?

Carmen's eyes were wide with fear as she looked back at me.

"Ethan," she whispered. "What do we do?"

"Just do what they say," I said, trying to keep my voice calm even though I was terrified. "Get out slowly. Keep your hands up. Don't make any sudden movements."

Miguel opened his door carefully, his hands raised, speaking in rapid Spanish to the officers.

Carmen did the same on the passenger side.

I opened the back door and stepped out, my hands up, my mind racing.

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