The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back
Chapter 206: Rot in her past

Chapter 206: Rot in her past

Outside the prison gates, the sun hung low, lazy, heavy, and indifferent to the weight of human lives unraveling beneath it. Ethan stepped out, his mind still cluttered with Maria’s confession, the ache of unfinished guilt gnawing at his chest. He barely noticed the figure leaning against a black SUV at first, tall, sharp suit, phone in hand.

It wasn’t until the man’s head tilted up that recognition struck. Rafael. What the hell is he doing here? Ethan wondered.

They locked eyes for a beat too long. No warmth. Just the quiet hum of unspoken history and mutual disdain.

Ethan smirked first, breaking the charged silence between them. "Must be a curse," he drawled, voice slick with mockery, "running into you everywhere, Rafa."

But Rafael wasn’t listening to him. Not really. His thoughts drifted, unbidden, to Mara, wondering if she and Ethan had arrived together last night. The image twisted something sharp and ugly in his chest, a spark of rage threatening to catch. But he buried it. He always did.

Ethan tilted his head, eyes gleaming like a predator who smelled blood. "Didn’t know you were practicing law now," he quipped, gesturing lazily toward the prison looming behind them. "Or is it just a visit to an old lover?"

Rafael let out a dry, humorless scoff and forced a smile — tight, polished, and utterly devoid of warmth. "Good to see you too, Ethan," he murmured, voice steady as a drawn blade. "Yeah... I practice. Some cases deserve more than a defense. Some deserve justice."

The air between them crackled.

Ethan chuckled, waving a dismissive hand as Rafael started toward the entrance. But he wasn’t done.

"Well, I hope you win, counselor. And, ah—sorry about last time. Didn’t mean to eavesdrop on your little phone call." He leaned in, lowering his voice to a poisoned whisper. "But you poor, poor thing. She’s mine, you know. I mean... her heart. You’ll always be dreaming of her, Rafael. Because no one, no one, will ever be able to erase me. Not from her heart... and not from her body."

The words dripped like venom, designed to wound, to slice at old scars.

Rafael felt his fist tighten at his side, blood roaring in his ears. But his expression didn’t crack. Not for Ethan.

He met his gaze, cold and unblinking. "You can hold on to the memory you have of her, Ethan," he said, voice smooth as glass, "because that’s all you’ve got. The past is yours to rot in."

And with that, Rafael adjusted his tie, straightened his coat, and strode away, leaving Ethan behind, his smirk faltering, rage simmering just beneath the surface.

The sound of Rafael’s footsteps faded into the distance, swallowed by the heavy air around the prison gates. Ethan stood frozen for a beat, his smirk brittle as glass. Then, as the final echo of Rafael’s words replayed in his mind, "The past is yours to rot in," something inside him twisted.

His jaw clenched. The smugness drained from his face, replaced by a cold, furious glare that could’ve cracked stone.

"Motherfucker," Ethan hissed under his breath.

He turned away from the entrance, hands buried in his pockets to stop them from shaking or lashing out. People were still hovering around the place. He ignored them, stalking toward the side of the lot where no one was watching, where the world faded to nothing but his own seething thoughts.

A trash can took the first hit, kicked hard enough to send it skidding and clattering against the wall. His breath came in sharp, ragged pulls. He ran a hand through his hair, pacing, the predator inside him restless and roaring.

It wasn’t about Rafael.

It was about her.

Mara.

The way she used to look at him, like he was the only sun in her sky. The way she bled when he wanted, how she’d belonged to him in every way that mattered. And now? Now she had slipped through his fingers like water, and Rafael had the audacity to think he could fill that space.

Ethan laughed, a dry, humorless sound that echoed in the empty corner of the lot. He reached into his coat, pulled out his phone, and stared at the screen, at the string of unanswered messages.

Mara.

Mara.

Mara.

The last one was still unread. His thumb hovered over the call button.

"We will be a family again," he muttered to no one, to the wind, to the ghosts gnawing at him from the inside out. "You’re not his. You’ll never be his."

Ethan pocketed the phone, straightened his jacket, and forced a smirk back onto his face, not because he felt it, but because it was armor. Because the world only knew him as a man who never lost. The little devil. And he wasn’t about to start now.

—

Rafael’s first stop was Officer April’s desk at the precinct. She looked up from a stack of files, surprised to see him. "I thought you were done with this case, Rafael."

He dropped heavily into the chair across from her. "I thought so too. But... It’s bad, April. Worse than we knew."

And he laid it all out. Maria’s childhood. The years of abuse. The threats.

And how it had all come to a bloody end one night in that house. April let out a long, slow breath, shaking her head. "Damn. No wonder she never said a word. I always wondered..."

"The man she killed was her husband," Rafael confirmed, "I’m still digging, but there are years of documented abuse. Hospital records, neighbors’ reports, even a restraining order that went nowhere. I think we can get her sentence reduced. Maybe even a full acquittal if we can prove she acted in self-defense after prolonged domestic violence."

April’s eyes met Rafael’s. "You’re serious about this?" Rafa nodded. "It’s not about her anymore. It’s about that little girl."

They both went to see Maria. She sat there in her cell, hollow-eyed, fingers toying with the edge of her daughter’s hair, with Isabella lying on her.

Rafael spoke first. His voice was gentle, no courtroom theatrics, no lawyer’s performance. Just a man speaking to another soul worn thin.

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