Lahat ng Kabanata ng The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return: Kabanata 271 - Kabanata 280

Chapter 271 Cynthia's POVI saw the sign WELCOME TO MISSFORD just as soon as I was about to complain to Miguel about how long we have spent on the road.Relief crashed through me so powerfully I actually started crying.We'd made it.After everything — the kidnapping, the warehouse, the running, the hiding, the broken-down truck, the police checkpoint — we'd actually made it."Missford," I whispered, pressing my hand against the window like I could reach through the glass and touch the sign. "We're here. We're actually here."Carmen turned in her seat to look at me, a gentle smile on her weathered face."Sí, mija," she said softly. "Ya llegamos."Yes, my daughter. We've arrived.Miguel grunted, his eyes still fixed on the road, but I could see the tension in his shoulders easing slightly.Even he seemed relieved to have reached our destination.As we crossed into the city limits, the landscape began to change.The empty fields and dirt roads gave way to pavement, buildings, traffic l

Chapter 273Cynthia's POVThe police arrived within minutes — two patrol cars with sirens blaring, officers jumping out before the vehicles had even fully stopped.They approached cautiously, their expressions a mixture of relief and professional concern."Cynthia Cynclair?" one of them asked, though it was clear from the crowd still filming and shouting that they already knew who I was."Yes," I said, my voice hoarse. "That's me.""We need to get you to the station," the officer said gently. "For your statement. And to get you checked out medically.""I don't need medical attention," I said immediately. "I need to report a kidnapping. Ethan Walker — my husband — he's still being held. By Grace Walker and her son Pascal. They're in a warehouse about four hours outside the city, near…""Ma'am," the officer interrupted, holding up a hand. "We'll get all of that at the station. Right now, let's get you somewhere safe."I nodded, my hands still shaking.Miguel and Carmen stood nearby, loo

Chapter 275Cynthia's POVAbout twenty minutes passed.Twenty agonizing, endless minutes.The tactical team surrounded the warehouse, weapons raised, calling out commands, demanding surrender.But there was no response, no movement inside, no sound.Nothing.Detective Susan's voice came over the radio again, sharp and decisive."We're going in. All units, breach on my mark."I watched, my hands pressed against the car window, my breath fogging the glass, as the officers moved in synchronized formation toward the warehouse entrance."Three... two... one... breach."The door burst open.Officers flooded inside, their flashlights cutting through the darkness, their voices echoing through the vast space."Clear!""Clear!""No movement!""Building is empty!"The words hit me like a physical blow.Empty."No," I whispered.Nathaniel's hand gripped my shoulder tightly."Stay here," he said firmly.But I was already moving out of the car.Already running toward the warehouse."Cynthia, wait…"

Chapter 277Cynthia's POVNew Year's Eve came and went.Fireworks lit up the Missford skyline at midnight—bright bursts of color against the dark winter sky, celebrating a fresh start, new beginnings, hope for the year ahead.But I felt none of it.I stood at the window of my bedroom, watching the celebrations from a distance, feeling completely disconnected from the joy everyone else seemed to feel.Somewhere out there, Ethan was dying.And I was here, safe and warm, while he suffered.The guilt was crushing.…The next morning — New Year's Day — brought no news.No updates from the police.No sightings of Grace or Pascal.No sign of Ethan.Nothing.Just silence.And that silence was worse than any bad news could have been.Because at least bad news would have been something.At least I would have known.Detective Susan called in the afternoon, her voice carefully neutral."We're still searching, Ms. Cynclair," she said. "We've expanded the radius. We're checking abandoned buildings,

Chapter 279Cynthia's POVSix weeks. Six damn weeks! Fucking forty-two days. One thousand and eight hours.I'd stopped counting after the first month. What was the point?The numbers didn't change anything.Didn't bring Ethan back or make the pain any less suffocating.The police had officially scaled back the search.They didn't announce it publicly — there was no press conference, no formal statement — but I could tell.The phone calls from the Detective became less frequent.Once a day became every other day.Then once a week, then nothing.The last time we spoke, she'd used the word "unlikely.""It's unlikely we'll find Mr. Walker at this point, Ms. Cynclair."Such a polite way of saying impossible, a fucking gentle way of saying give up.The media had already made their conclusions.The headlines shifted from hopeful to resigned to outright morbid."Ethan Walker: Six Weeks Missing, Presumed Dead""Forensic Experts: Blood Loss Would Have Been Fatal""Police Believe Body May Have B