The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back
Chapter 194: First day at school

Chapter 194: First day at school

The morning air shimmered with the brightness that promised a scorching noon. The Shepherd mansion was alive with its controlled chaos, nannies zipping back and forth with lunch boxes, the faint clatter of dishes being cleared from breakfast, and the sound of Mara’s voice calling for shoes, bags, "Where’s Andrew’s bottle? No, the blue one!"

She was dressed in a crisp cream blouse tucked into high-waisted trousers, hair swept up in a loose knot that made her look every bit the composed woman she fought to be. But inside was a storm.

Her brothers gathered at the front steps, each holding something absurdly expensive for the twins. Stanford with two tiny diamond-studded wristwatches, why, Standford, why?, Stanley with a pair of gold-trimmed leather school bags, Stefan handing them little good luck charms shaped like hearts and stars, and Steve, who gave his gifts a day before.

The twins giggled under the attention, Audrey twirling in her pleated skirt, and Andrew already pulling on his backpack like a boy on a mission.

Mara smiled because it was impossible not to in moments like this.

"Alright, let’s go," she called, ushering the twins toward the waiting van.

And that’s when Ethan pulled up.

A sleek, obsidian car that gleamed like a threat in the sunlight. He stepped out in a dark suit that was probably too formal for a school run, but then again, this was Ethan; he wasn’t there just for the twin. Always sharp, always calculated.

"Good morning, Shepherds," he said, his voice smooth as silk dipped in venom.

"Ethan," Mara greeted tightly, already sensing the oncoming friction.

He crouched low, arms open, and the twins ran straight to him. Andrew, especially, with that bond that still bruised her heart. She’d spent a year clawing him back from the darkness, and Ethan could steal him in a heartbeat with just a smile.

"You weren’t thinking of leaving me behind for this, were you?" Ethan teased as he scooped Andrew up.

"I figured you’d show up anyway," Mara shot back, folding her arms.

The tension was thick enough to slice.

"I want us to go together," Ethan said casually, hoisting Andrew onto his hip while Audrey tugged at his trouser leg. "Like a family. Just for today."

Mara’s jaw clenched. "I don’t need to ride in your car to be there for my kids."

"Your kids, huh?" Ethan’s voice dipped, something sharp flickering in his eyes. "They’re mine too, Mara. I wonder why you keep forgetting that."

The twins weren’t old enough to pick up on the tension, only sensing it like the shift in the air before a storm. Audrey grabbed Mara’s hand. Andrew buried his face in his father’s neck.

Ethan took a slow step toward the car. "Come on," he coaxed gently to the kids, opening his backseat.

And they followed by fixing their safety belts.

Mara’s heart twisted.

She could feel her brothers watching, Steve with a look that said Say the word and I’ll stop him, Stefan frowning like a man with one crisis too many, Stanley and Stanford both pretending to check their watches.

Mara rolled her eyes, her stomach knotting as she strode toward Ethan’s car.

"Fine," she snapped, yanking open the passenger door. "But the van follows us."

She slid in, slamming the door with a little more force than necessary, refusing to meet Ethan’s smug, quiet smile.

"Buckle up, darling," he murmured as he pulled away from the curb.

Mara stared out the window, watching her brothers fade in the side mirror, the weight of this so-called family heavy on her shoulders.

The hum of the car was low and steady, the twins chatting softly in the backseat in a language only they could understand, probably about colors and playgrounds and whether their new school would have a slide. Mara was doing her best to focus on them, on the way the morning light made Audrey’s curls shimmer, on Andrew’s tiny fingers tapping at the car window.

And then her phone rang.

The screen lit up with Rafael.

Her stomach did that thing, that uneasy lurch like the moment before a storm breaks. She hesitated, thumb hovering over the screen.

Ethan noticed.

"Won’t you answer it?" he asked, voice too smooth, too knowing. His hand was steady on the wheel, his eyes on the road, but his words pressed against her skin like a cold hand.

Mara cleared her throat, steeling herself. "It’s fine."

"It might be important," Ethan added, a flicker of something unreadable in his tone. "I could pull over if you want."

She felt his eyes flicker toward her, catching the smallest crack in her armor. Mara closed her eyes for a moment, cursing him for not minding his business and for still having the ability to get under her skin without even trying.

This man is not yours anymore, she reminded herself. And he never was the way you needed him to be.

But the call kept ringing, and with a sigh, she swiped to answer.

"Rafael," she said, voice softer than she meant it to be.

Before she could add I’ll call you later, Ethan’s voice slid in like a blade.

"Are you okay, Mara baby?" he asked, loudly enough for the phone to catch it. "I could stop the car if you want."

Her heart jumped to her throat.

She turned her face to the window, feeling the twin pull of two men, one who was her past, the other who wanted to be her future.

"I... I’ll call you back, Rafael," she murmured.

But Rafa wasn’t about to let her off that easily.

"I love you," he said, his voice rich and steady. "More than life itself."

And there it was, the moment that could excite her, the moment to let Ethan know she did move on yet...

Mara’s fingers trembled around the phone. She knew what she should say, what Rafael needed to hear, but the weight of Ethan’s presence, the ghosts of what they’d been and the ache of what they never were, pinned her in place so she froze.

"I know," was all she managed, her voice barely above a whisper.

She ended the call before she could hear the hurt in Rafa’s silence.

The car was thick with unsaid things. Even the twins had gone quiet, sensing the shift in the air.

Ethan let out a low chuckle, a humorless thing.