Todos los capítulos de The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return: Capítulo 261 - Capítulo 270

Chapter 262Cynthia's POVMy lungs burned with every breath, my legs screaming in protest, my heart hammering so hard against my ribs I thought it might burst right out of my chest.But I didn't stop running, because stopping meant getting caught and getting caught meant going back to that warehouse.I'd just left Ethan there alone, hurt and barely able to stand.The thought made my chest ache worse than the physical pain of running, but I forced myself to keep going.He told you to run. He told you to get help. So run.The landscape around me was… strange.Wrong, somehow.I'd lived in Missford for years, and I'd never seen anything like this.Empty fields stretched out on either side of the dirt road I was following. Old wooden fences. Patches of farmland that looked neglected, overgrown. A few ramshackle buildings in the distance that might have been barns or storage sheds.No houses, cars or even people. Yes, it is a bit late but how late is it? midnight?It was just endless, empty

Chapter 264Cynthia's POVWhen we pulled back up to the farm, Miguel's wife was standing near a makeshift tent she'd apparently set up while we were gone — a simple canvas structure held up by wooden poles, probably meant for storing tools or providing shade during harvest season.She looked up as the truck approached, her expression shifting from curiosity to shock when she saw me climbing out of the passenger seat."¿Miguel?" she called out, hurrying toward us, wiping her hands on her apron. "¿Qué pasó? ¿Por qué regresaron?"What happened? Why did you come back?Miguel didn't answer immediately. He just got out of the truck, slammed the door harder than necessary, and walked around to stand beside me with his arms crossed.His wife looked between us with growing concern."¿Está todo bien?" she asked.Is everything okay?"No," Miguel said flatly. "Nada está bien."Nothing is okay.I took a shaky breath, trying to gather what little Spanish I still remembered from high school, trying

Chapter 266Cynthia's POV~ Twenty years ago ~The church was magnificent.White flowers everywhere—cascading down the aisle, wrapped around every pillar, filling the air with their sweet, almost overwhelming fragrance.Harold Walker had spared no expense."My son deserves the best," he'd declared when the wedding planner had presented the budget. "And so does his bride."I stood at the back of the church in my wedding dress staring down the long aisle toward the altar where Ethan waited.He looked handsome in his tuxedo, his dark hair perfectly styled, his posture straight and formal.But he didn't look happy.Not the way grooms were supposed to look on their wedding day.Beside me, Anna adjusted my veil with a bright, practiced smile."You look beautiful, Cynthia," she said, her voice dripping with false warmth. "Ethan is so lucky."I knew she didn't mean it.I knew that beneath that smile, Anna was dying inside.She has always been jealous and a mouthbreather. Ever since that ware

Chapter 268Cynthia's POVBy evening, Miguel and Carmen had brought me to their actual home—a small, modest house on the edge of their farmland with peeling paint and a sagging porch, but warm and lived-in in a way that made my chest ache.It reminded me of the beach house Ethan had bought us.Before everything fell apart.Carmen had given me a set of her daughter's old clothes—simple jeans and a worn sweater that smelled faintly of lavender and mothballs—and had laid out a plate of food on their small kitchen table.Simple fare. Rice, beans, some roasted vegetables.But it was the best meal I'd had in days."Gracias," I said for what felt like the hundredth time. "Thank you. For everything."Carmen smiled gently, patting my hand across the table."De nada, mija," she said softly.It's nothing, my daughter.Miguel sat across from us, eating in silence, still clearly wary of me but not unkind.After dinner, Carmen showed me to a small room at the back of the house—probably their daught

Chapter 270Cynthia's POVWe were stranded.Completely, utterly stranded.In the middle of a lonely stretch of road that seemed to stretch endlessly in both directions, with nothing but empty fields and the occasional withered tree for company.Cars passed by — maybe one every five or ten minutes — but none of them stopped.Why would they?We were just… stuck.Miguel had the hood of the truck propped open, his head buried inside the engine compartment, muttering curses in Spanish while Carmen stood beside him, wringing her hands anxiously.And I was pacing.Back and forth along the side of the road, my hands clenched into fists, my mind screaming at me to do something.But there was nothing I could do.No phone to call for help.No money to pay for a tow truck even if we could call one.No way forward except to wait for Miguel to somehow fix a twenty-year-old transmission with his bare hands.This can't be happening.This can't be real.Every minute we stood here was another minute Et