The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 313

Chapter 313

Cynthia's POV

My heart was beating so fast I thought it might actually burst out of my chest.

Racing. Pounding. Hammering against my ribs with such force I could feel it in my throat, in my ears, in every cell of my body.

At first, when I'd seen Ethan standing in that police station, I'd been convinced I was hallucinating.

That the stress and grief and desperate hope had finally broken my mind completely and I was seeing things that weren't there.

So I'd decided—in that split second before he'd pulled me into his arms—that if this was a dream or a delusion or some kind of mental break, I was going to hold on for as long as possible.

Kiss him. Touch him. Memorize every detail before reality came crashing back in and took him away from me again.

But then he'd held me.

Actually, physically held me with solid arms and a beating heart and warm breath against my hair.

And I'd realized it was real.

Ethan was real.

This wasn't a dream.

He was here.

And now we were in a car, driving back to the Laurent mansion, and I still couldn't quite believe it.

Couldn't stop touching him—my hand in his, my head on his shoulder, my other hand pressed against his chest so I could feel his heartbeat and confirm over and over that he was alive.

Nathaniel had called ahead while we were still at the station.

"I asked Julian to pick up Amber from school on his way to the mansion," he'd said, his voice thick with emotion as he looked at Ethan. "Briefed him on what happened. They should be there by the time we arrive."

I'd looked at Ethan, seen the mixture of desperate anticipation and fear on his face, and squeezed his hand tighter.

"He's going to be so happy," I'd whispered.

Ethan had just nodded, his throat working like he couldn't trust himself to speak.

Now, in the car, he held me just as tightly as I held him.

Like neither of us could bear even an inch of distance between us.

"Tell me this is real," I said quietly. "Tell me I'm not dreaming."

Ethan pressed a kiss to the top of my head.

"It's real," he said, his voice rough. "I'm here. I'm really here."

I tilted my face up to look at him.

Even with the bruises and cuts, even with the obvious exhaustion pulling at his features—he was the most beautiful thing I'd ever seen.

"Where were you?" I asked. "All this time. Where…"

"I'll tell you everything," Ethan promised. "The whole story. But later. Right now I just need to—"

He didn't finish, just held me tighter.

And I understood.

Later, there would be time for explanations and questions and filling in all the gaps.

Later, we'd have to deal with Grace and Pascal and the legal aftermath of everything that had happened.

Later, we'd have to figure out how to move forward as a family after five months of trauma.

But right now, all that mattered was being together.

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