The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 91

Chapter 91

Anna’s POV

My phone screen glowed in the dim light of my bedroom, showing post after post about Maison Cynclair.

“Chef Cynclair’s Paris restaurant cleared of all charges!”

“Michelin–starred Maison Cynclair vindicated, false accusations exposed!”

“Reservations at Maison Cynclair booked solid for six months following scandal resolution!”

Each headline stabbed like a knife in my chest.

I scrolled faster, my thumb moving frantically across the screen, searching for even one negative comment, one lingering doubt about Cynthia’s precious restaurant.

Nothing.

The derogatory posts I’d orchestrated and paid thousands of euros for had been scrubbed from the internet. The fake food poisoning claims had been exposed as lies. The health violations had been proven fabricated.

Maison Cynclair wasn’t just surviving.

It was thriving.

Better than before. The scandal had actually made her more popular. People were championing her as a victim of corporate sabotage, praising her resilience, booking tables just to show their support.

I wanted to scream.

My phone rang, the sudden sound making me jump. I glanced at the caller ID.

Unknown number.

I knew who it was. Only one person used burner phones this obsessively.

I answered with a snarl. “What?”

“We have a problem. “Dragon’s been captured.”

My blood ran cold. “What?”

“The police got him. And it’s worse than that, someone’s been doing investigations. They’re tracking the money, Anna. Following the trail.”

“How far have they gotten?” My voice was barely a whisper.

“Far enough to be dangerous. Far enough that we need to start covering our tracks.”

“You are to cover our tracks!” I hissed. “That was the whole point of the shell accounts, the offshore routing…”

“I told you to leave that bitch alone!” His voice rose, anger bleeding through the distortion. “She wasn’t my business. She wasn’t my target. Ethan is. Don’t you get it?”

“She was going to be a problem at the end of the day…”

He let out a harsh laugh cutting me off. “This was about taking Walker Industries. But you couldn’t help yourself, could you? You had to make it personal. You had to go after his wife.”

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“She’s not his wife,” I snapped. “Not really. She abandoned him…” 1

“And now you’ve put us all at stake with your stupid gimmicks.” His voice dripped with contempt. “What were you thinking, Anna? That Ethan would one day love you?”

He laughed again, and the sound made me want to throw the phone across the room.

“He didn’t love you when Cynthia was around,” he continued mercilessly. “He didn’t love you when she left. And you still think he’ll love you if you try to make her disappear again?”

I hung up.

My hand was shaking. My whole body was shaking.

He didn’t understand. Nobody understood.

Ethan is going to love me.

My phone rang again.

I almost threw it against the wall. But when I glanced at the screen, I froze.

Mrs. Godwin.

Mrs. Godwin was a teacher at Westbridge Academy. One of the administrative assistants, actually, positioned perfectly to see and hear everything that happened at Amber’s school. I’d been paying her for information since Cynthia left to be sure Cynthia never came back. Small amounts, just enough to keep her interested.

Why was she calling?

I answered. “What?”

“Miss Anna.” Mrs. Godwin’s voice was hushed, like she was hiding somewhere. “I thought you should know. There was a PTA meeting today.”

“I know that.” I’d deliberately stayed away, “Tired for playing mother for that evil Amber that just wouldn’t forget Cynthia”

“Cynthia came,” Mrs. Godwin said. “Amber’s mother. She showed up.”

My grip on the phone tightened.

“And?” My voice was dangerous now.

“She and Mr. Walker met with Mrs. Pierre together. They seemed… civil. Cooperative, even.” Mrs. Godwin paused. “And when they left, they left together.”

“What do you mean, together?”

“I saw them from my office window. They walked to the parking lot with Amber. All three of them got into Mr. Walker’s car.”

No, no, no.

“Are you sure?” My voice came out strangled.

“Positive. I watched them drive away.”

I hung up without responding.

For a long moment, I just stood there, phone clutched in my hand, staring at nothing.

“NO!”

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The scream tore out of my throat, raw and animalistic.

I grabbed the decorative vase I’d bought to make my apartment look more sophisticated and hurled it across the room. It shattered against the wall, shards of glass exploding across the hardwood floor.

It wasn’t enough.

I swept my arm across the coffee table, sending everything crashing down. Magazines. Remote controls. That stupid ceramic owl Ethan had bought me for my birthday last year.

I grabbed a framed photo of me and Ethan at some charity function, both of us smiling for the cameras and threw it as hard as I could. His face disappeared behind a spider web of broken glass.

My breathing was ragged now, coming in harsh gasps.

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