The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 40

Ethan’s POV

I sat in my car, engine idling, watching the front doors of Westbridge Academy.

I’d been doing this more often lately. Picking up Amber myself instead of sending Anna or the driver. Some misguided attempt at being present, at making up for… everything.

I observed Amber had been different since he started noticing Cynthia’s absence. At first, I thought he may not really miss her because he didn’t care, it took him almost a month to realise that his mother wasn’t actually home and then he thought it was just his access to freedom, had fun with pregnant Anna, happily welcomed Hayden when Anna gave birth to her. He had so many unsupervised screen time and the last time I checked his results, it was still declining.

And whose fault was that? Mine. Because I hadn’t been the husband and father I should have been.

But that still didn’t give her the right to abandon him.

Three years without a word, without asking to see her own son. And now she was back in Missford, parading around with Kevin Laurent like some kind of trophy girlfriend, not giving a damn about the child she’d left behind.

Devian and Bryan had seen her at the Grand Prix yesterday, cheering Kevin on like a devoted partner, celebrating someone else’s success while her son struggled alone.

It made me sick.

The car door opened suddenly, jarring me from my thoughts. Amber climbed in, his backpack hitting the floor with a thud.

“Hey, buddy,” I said, forcing brightness into my voice. “How was school?”

He didn’t answer. He just buckled his seatbelt and stared out the window.

That’s when I noticed his eyes were red–rimmed and puffy.

“Amber?” I shifted in my seat, trying to catch his gaze. “Have you been crying?”

“I’m fine.” His voice was tight, controlled. The voice of a kid trying desperately not to fall apart.

“You’re clearly not fine. What happened? Did someone hurt you?”

“I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Amber…”

“I said I don’t want to talk about it!” His voice cracked, and he pressed his face against the window, shoulders hunched

I clenched my jaw, putting the car in drive. “Okay. We’ll talk at home.”

Inside the house, Amber headed straight for the stairs, but I caught his arm gently.

“Living room. Now.”

He looked like he wanted to argue, but something in my expression must have stopped him. He trudged into the living room and collapsed onto the couch, his backpack sliding to the floor.

I sat across from him, leaning forward with my elbows on my knees. “Talk to me. What happened today?”

For a long moment, he said nothing. Then, quietly: “Lillian said she saw Mom.”

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My heart stopped. “What?”

“At the grocery store.” His voice was barely above a whisper. “She said Mom was there, shopping. I told you mom was around.”

“Amber…”

“And then Lillian said…” He choked on the words, fresh tears spilling down his cheeks. “She said Mom doesn’t love me anymore. That’s why she left. That’s why she hasn’t come to see me. Because she doesn’t want me.”

I was dumbfounded, not knowing how to react or respond to such very uncomfortable conversation.

“She said Mom has a new family now. She saw her with another man. That she’s moved on and forgotten about me.”

“That’s not true,” I said automatically, but even as I said it, doubt crept in. Was it true? Cynthia had been back in Missford for weeks now, and she hadn’t once tried to see Amber. Hadn’t called or even asked.

“Then why hasn’t she come?” Amber’s voice broke completely. “If she still loves me, why hasn’t she even tried to see me?”

I had no answer. Because I’d been asking myself the same question.

“Go upstairs,” I said quietly. “Get cleaned up. We’ll talk more later.”

He nodded, wiping his face with his sleeve, and disappeared up the stairs.

I stood abruptly, already angry at the realization that she was back, living her best life, and couldn’t even be bothered to check on her own child?

Without thinking, I grabbed the crystal flower vase on the side table and hurled it across the room.

It shattered against the wall in an explosion of glass and water, flowers scattering across the hardwood floor.

“Fuck!” I shouted to the empty room. “Fuck!”

“Well, that was dramatic.”

I spun around to find my mother standing in the doorway, arms crossed, one eyebrow raised in that infuriatingly calm way she had.

“How long have you been standing there?” I demanded.

She glared at me for a moment, and I realized that I had spoken to her rudely, I lowered my eyes a little

“Long enough to hear that your son’s classmates are tormenting him about his absent mother.” She walked into the room, carefully stepping over the broken glass. “So tell me, Ethan…what exactly are you angry about? Amber’s friends at school? Yourself? Or Cynthia?”

“All of it!” I snapped. “She doesn’t even care about her son! I thought she was the best mom! She…”

“Best mom” she mocked settling into an armchair, crossing her legs elegantly. “I attended a women’s conference. Do you know what everyone was talking about? That trending video of your wife with some other man. I was shocked when I saw it…I didn’t believe it was her at first.”

“It was her,” I said bitterly. “With Kevin Laurent.”

“Yes, I gathered that.” My mother’s expression turned thoughtful. “But what shocked me more was that she’s alive at all. She was clearly sick when she left. I knew she had a brain tumor. The doctor only confirmed…”

She stopped abruptly, her eyes widening slightly as she realized what she’d just said.

I stared at her, the words not quite registering. “What did you just say?”

“I mean…”

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“Mother.” My voice was dangerously quiet. “You knew Cynthia had a brain tumor before she left?”

She looked away, suddenly very interested in the broken glass on the floor. “Yeah. What if I knew? I couldn’t do anything to help

her…”

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