The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 289

Chapter 289

Cynthia's POV

I was still trying to figure out how to politely extract my hand from Nikolai's when he suddenly smiled and said, "I have something for you."

Before I could respond, he stood up from his seat and moved around the table to stand behind me.

"Nikolai, what are you…" I started.

I felt something cool and delicate settle against my collarbone, heard the soft click of a clasp being fastened at the nape of my neck.

A necklace.

He'd put a necklace on me.

"There," Nikolai said, his voice warm with satisfaction. "Perfect."

I reached up instinctively, my fingers finding the pendant—something smooth and substantial, probably expensive if I had to guess based on the weight of it.

"What is this?" I asked, my voice coming out sharper than I'd intended.

Nikolai returned to his seat, looking pleased with himself.

"Just something I saw on my way to your restaurant," he said casually. "I thought it would be beautiful on you."

The words hung in the air between us.

Just something I saw.

As if this was a casual, meaningless gesture.

As if buying jewelry for a woman whose husband was missing wasn't loaded with implications and expectations and assumptions about where this relationship was—or should be—heading.

Something inside me snapped.

All the discomfort I'd been swallowing for months. All the careful politeness I'd been maintaining despite feeling increasingly pressured. All the guilt about not being able to return Nikolai's obvious feelings.

It all crystallized into sudden, sharp anger.

I stood up abruptly, my chair scraping loudly against the floor.

My hands went to the back of my neck, fumbling with the clasp, yanking the necklace off with more force than necessary.

"I can't accept this," I said, holding the necklace out to Nikolai.

His smile faltered. "Cynthia…"

"I can't," I repeated firmly. "This is too much, Nikolai. It's inappropriate."

"It's just a gift," Nikolai said, but he made no move to take the necklace from my outstretched hand. "Between friends."

"Friends don't buy each other expensive jewelry," I said, my voice rising slightly. "You know that. And you know what this looks like. What it means."

Nikolai's expression hardened slightly.

"And what does it mean?" he asked.

"It means you're expecting something from me that I can't give you," I said, the words finally spilling out. "Not now. Maybe not ever."

"Cynthia…"

"Take it," I said, thrusting the necklace toward him. "Please."

Nikolai sat back in his chair, crossing his arms, his jaw set stubbornly.

"No," he said quietly. "It's a gift. I'm not taking it back."

Frustration surged through me.

Fine.

If he wouldn't take it, I'd leave it.

I dropped the necklace on the table between us, the delicate chain pooling on the white tablecloth, the pendant catching the warm light.

"I'm leaving," I said.

"Cynthia, wait…" Nikolai started to stand.

But I was already walking away, weaving between tables, ignoring the curious looks from other diners, pushing through the restaurant's front door and out into the cool night air.

I heard Nikolai call my name behind me, but I didn't stop.

Not the time to accept expensive gifts and romantic dinners and whatever else Nikolai thought he was building toward.

I pulled out my phone and ordered a rideshare, my fingers still trembling slightly.

I gave the driver Nathaniel's address because I needed to see Amber.

…

Helen answered the door, surprise crossing her face when she saw me.

"Cynthia," she said. "I wasn't expecting you tonight. Is everything okay?"

"I just wanted to see Amber," I said. "If that's alright."

"Of course," Helen said, stepping aside to let me in. "He's upstairs in his room doing homework."

I nodded my thanks and headed up the familiar staircase.

Nathaniel and Helen's house was beautiful—spacious and elegant but still somehow warm and lived-in. The kind of home that felt like a real family lived there.

The kind of home I'd wanted to give Amber.

I found his room easily—the one at the end of the hall with his name on the door in cheerful wooden letters.

I knocked softly.

"Come in," Amber's small voice called.

I pushed open the door.

And found my son lying on his bed, staring up at the ceiling, his homework spread out on the desk completely untouched.

My heart broke.

Because I knew exactly what he was thinking about.

Could see it in the distant look in his eyes, the way his small hands were clasped over his stomach, the slight frown pulling at his mouth.

He was thinking about Ethan.