The Billionaire Ex-Wife's Return (Cynthia and Ethan) novel Chapter 293

Chapter 293

Bryan's POV

Grace struggled in my grip, twisting violently, trying to wrench herself free.

"Let me go!" she hissed, her voice sharp with panic. "Let me go or I'll…"

"I'm not going to report you to the police," I said quickly, tightening my hold just enough to keep her from bolting. "Grace, listen to me. I'm not here to turn you in."

She froze, her eyes narrowing with suspicion.

"Then what the hell are you doing here?" she demanded.

I took a breath, keeping my voice calm and measured.

"I came here for selfish reasons," I said. "Reasons that have nothing to do with the police or turning you in or any of that. You don't need to be concerned about me."

Grace's expression shifted from panic to confusion.

"Selfish reasons," she repeated slowly, studying my face. "What does that mean?"

"It means we might actually want the same thing," I said carefully.

Grace stared at me for a long moment, her breathing still ragged, clearly trying to decide if I was lying or setting some kind of trap.

"What are you doing here?" I asked, loosening my grip slightly but not letting go entirely. "Why would you come back to a place the police just raided?"

Grace's face twisted with something that looked like fear and desperation.

"Pascal," she said. "I came to look for Pascal. I needed to know if they caught him."

Her voice cracked slightly.

"He's my son," she added, almost defensively. "I can't just leave him."

I understood that impulse.

The fierce, irrational loyalty that made you do stupid, dangerous things for the people you loved.

"They didn't catch him," I said.

Grace's eyes widened. "What?"

"The police didn't catch Pascal," I repeated. "He got away. Ran before they could close in. So you can still find him if you need to."

Relief flooded Grace's features, so intense it was almost painful to watch.

"He's alive," she breathed. "He's okay."

"For now," I said. "But the police are actively searching. They have his DNA from the bushouse. They know he's in Missford. It's only a matter of time before…"

"Oh fuck!"

She tried to pull away again, but I held firm.

"Grace," I said. "I told you. I'm not your enemy here."

"Then what are you?" she demanded. "Why should I trust anything you're saying?"

"Because I want the same thing you want," I said.

"And what's that?"

"For Ethan Walker to stay gone," I said bluntly.

Grace went very still.

Her eyes searched my face, looking for deception, for a trap, for whatever angle I was playing.

"Why would you want that?" she asked slowly. "Ethan's your best friend. You've known him for years."

"Things change," I said simply.

Grace continued to stare at me, clearly trying to work out whether this was real or some elaborate setup by the police.

Finally, she seemed to make a decision.

"We couldn't risk them finding Ethan's body in the car," Grace said. "So we pulled over on a side road near some farmland and dumped him there instead. Just left him on the roadside."

My hands clenched into fists.

"Oh my God," I said flatly.

"He was already unconscious," Grace said defensively. "Already dying from blood loss. We thought—we assumed—he'd be dead within the hour."

"But?" I prompted, hearing the unfinished thought in her tone.

"But when we went back the next day to check," Grace said, her voice dropping, "he was gone."

I blinked. "Gone?"

"The body wasn't there," Grace said. "We searched the entire area. Checked nearby farms, asked around as much as we could without drawing attention. Nothing. It was like he'd vanished."

She looked genuinely disturbed by this.

"We thought maybe an animal had dragged him off," Grace continued. "Or maybe someone had found him and moved the body. But there was no news coverage. No reports of anyone finding a dead or injured man."

"So you don't know if he's alive or dead," I said slowly.

"No," Grace admitted. "We've been looking for him for months. Checking hospitals, morgues, and even police station anywhere he might have turned up. But there's been nothing."

Her expression hardened.

"And it's Anna's fault," she spat suddenly, venom dripping from every word. "That bitch betrayed us. Let Cynthia escape. Helped them get away. If she'd just done what she was supposed to do, none of this would have happened."

My mind was racing, trying to process what Grace had just told me.

Ethan's body had disappeared.

Which meant one of two things.

Either he was dead and someone had moved/hidden the body for reasons unknown.

Or impossibly, against all odds — he was still alive somewhere.