The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 319

Chapter 319

Cynthia's POV

The Walker mansion was alive with music, laughter, and the warm buzz of conversation.

Ethan had insisted on throwing this party—a proper celebration to thank everyone who'd helped bring him home and to mark the beginning of our family's fresh start.

The guest list was eclectic, to say the least.

Gavin stood near the bar, looking uncomfortable in a suit that was clearly borrowed or hastily purchased, nursing a drink while surveying the opulence of the Walker estate with the expression of someone completely out of their element.

His daughter Prisca hovered near him, and I'd caught her shooting daggers at me more than once throughout the evening.

Ethan had warned me about her advances during his time at their farm—how she'd tried to seduce him, how Gavin had pushed for them to get married, how that final confrontation had led to Ethan being kicked out.

So I understood the bitter looks.

Understood that she was probably imagining what her life could have been if Ethan had chosen her instead.

But I couldn't bring myself to care.

Ethan had made his choice.

And he'd chosen us.

Ethan had also told me he planned to repay Gavin and Prisca generously for saving his life — money, a new home, whatever they needed to improve their struggling farm.

It was the right thing to do, even if Prisca would probably always resent me for existing.

Carmen and Miguel were having a much better time, laughing with their daughter—a lovely woman in her thirties who kept thanking us profusely for the car we'd given her parents.

"They talk about you all the time," she'd said to me earlier, her eyes shining. "About how they helped save your life, and then months later helped bring your husband home. They say it's fate."

Maybe it was.

Devian and one of the few people from his old life who'd never given up hope — had shown up looking stunned.

"I can't believe you're actually here," he'd said, pulling Ethan into a long hug. "Man, I thought I’d never see you again."

"I know," Ethan had said. "But I'm back. And I'm not going anywhere."

Devian spared me a nod and it was awkward. I hoped he didn’t expect us to be cool because I do not need to be cool with him.

The Laurent family had come in force.

Nathaniel and Helen with their daughter Lily, who'd immediately gravitated toward Amber.

Kevin had arrived solo, which wasn't unusual—my brother rarely brought dates to family events.

But I noticed him talking animatedly with one of the caterer's assistants, a pretty brunette who kept laughing at whatever he was saying.

Maybe Kevin didn't need a serious relationship.

Maybe casual flings and his racing career were enough to keep him happy.

And then there was Julian.

Who'd walked in with Tony on his arm, both of them dressed impeccably, looking every inch the successful, confident couple.

I'd watched my mother's face when she saw them.

Watched the color literally drain from her skin, her champagne glass freezing halfway to her lips.

She'd known, I realized.

Or at least suspected.

But seeing it confirmed—seeing her son with another man, openly affectionate, completely unapologetic—had shaken her.

Victoria had started drinking heavily after that.

Glass after glass of champagne, her smile becoming more strained with each sip.

But to her credit, she hadn't made a scene.

Hadn't confronted Julian.

Hadn't done anything except drink and watch her son laugh with his boyfriend, her expression a complicated mixture of shock, disappointment, and something that might have been reluctant acceptance.

Julian, for his part, seemed completely unbothered by the attention.

He held Tony's hand openly, introduced him to people as "my partner," and didn't shy away from casual touches or affectionate glances.

It was brave.

And I was so proud of him I could barely stand it.

The party flowed around us—people eating, drinking, dancing, celebrating.

But I found myself needing a moment alone.

Away from the noise and the eyes and the constant social performance.

I slipped away from the crowd and made my way upstairs to the master bedroom, closing the door behind me and letting out a long breath.

Nikolai.

I'd sent him an invitation to the party days ago.

Had wanted him to come, to see that I was happy, to know that I appreciated everything he'd done even though things hadn't worked out the way he'd hoped.

But he hadn't responded.

And he wasn't here.

I pulled out my phone and stared at his contact for a long moment.

Then, before I could talk myself out of it, I called.

He answered almost immediately.

"Cynthia," he said, his voice warm but tired.

"Hi," I said. "I wasn't sure you'd pick up."

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