The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 131: Never to End

The air was thick when Ethan stepped inside.

He hadn’t called. He hadn’t needed to. Mara felt him coming long before he knocked. Or maybe she had just hoped for him so often that her body no longer knew how to relax when he was near.

She was in the kitchen, wearing one of his old shirts, she kept telling herself she would toss out. But she never did.

"Mara," he said softly. She turned, slowly. The look in his eyes nearly undid her. He looked like he had a million things to say, and none of them were safe to say out loud.

"What are you doing here?" she asked, a voice lower than she intended. He stepped closer, tension rippling between them.

"I couldn’t sleep," he admitted. "I kept thinking about... today."

Her breath hitched. "I felt it too," she whispered. The space between them felt electric. Dangerous. "I don’t know what to do with how much I still want you," he murmured.

"You do." As if that was hard to believe, well, you couldn’t blame her, his actions of late said otherwise. But there was something else, her heart was lit as if she was on another planet, just the two of them.

"I do." But his hand brushed her waist anyway.

She didn’t move. "You still wear this shirt?" he said, his fingers grazing the hem. "You remember what happened the first time you wore it?"

She shivered. "Ethan..."

He leaned in, just enough for her to feel the warmth of his breath against her skin. "Tell me to stop."

She didn’t.

Couldn’t.

His lips met hers like fire, no hesitation this time, no apology. Just heat and memory, and want. She pressed into him, her hands tangled in his shirt as if the ache in her chest could only be silenced by the feel of him against her.

He lifted her onto the counter, his hands on her thighs, spreading warmth everywhere they touched. She moaned into his mouth, one hand in his hair, pulling him closer. There was nothing careful about the way they kissed, now no patience, no rules.

Just need.

He kissed her neck, then lower, and every place he touched felt like home and heartbreak all at once. Her breathing grew shallow, her head falling back as he whispered her name like a prayer.

"Mara..."

Her eyes met his. There was want, but there was also pain. Regret. Love.

"I don’t know what this means," she said, breathless.

"I do," he replied, pressing his forehead to hers. "I want to be here. With you. Like this."

And in that moment, she let herself forget the hurt. Forget the questions. There was only him. And the way he still knew how to set her on fire.

"Ethan," She moans his name.

—

"Ethan..." she mumbled as her eyes fluttered open.

Her voice caught on the edge of sleep and reality.

"Ethan." But he wasn’t there. The room was quiet. The sheets were cool.

She blinked against the light, her heart hammering in her chest, still full of a love that wasn’t quite dead, but no longer whole. Tears burned behind her eyes. She pressed her hand to her belly. But dreams didn’t change what had been done.

Still... waking up and calling his name meant something. Didn’t it?

Mara gasped as she sat up, breath catching in her throat. Her skin was flushed and damp with sweat, and the sheets twisted around her legs. She blinked, disoriented, Ethan’s name still tangled on her lips like a whisper that hadn’t asked for permission to escape.

The dream still clung to her like silk, his touch, his mouth, the warmth, the wanting. Her heart was pounding, her body humming with betrayal of her better judgment.

Then she saw them.

Four shadows by the door.

Her brothers.

Steve, Stanley, Stefan, and Stanford.

Frozen.

Watching.

And Mara’s stomach plummeted.

She couldn’t meet their eyes. Couldn’t even look in their direction without feeling the heat crawl up her neck in waves of embarrassment. She quickly wiped the sweat from her brow, her throat dry like she’d swallowed shame itself.

Her gaze darted to the nightstand.

The diary. The letter.

She snatched them, hands shaking slightly, and shoved them into the drawer like they were evidence of a crime.

The silence was unbearable.

Steve was the one to break it, his voice soft, almost too casual.

"You good?"

Mara nodded too quickly. "Yeah. Just a weird dream. That’s all."

She didn’t need to say who it was about. They knew. The way her voice cracked on the edge of Ethan’s name a minute ago, it had been loud enough to echo in the silence.

She waited for the lecture. From Steve, probably. The one wrapped in logic, firm tone, and the kind of cold truth that often stung before it healed. She waited for him to remind her of everything Ethan had done. How foolish she was to still carry his name in her dreams like a keepsake.

Instead, Steve only gave a small, strange smile—something between understanding and resignation.

"Well," he said, rubbing the back of his neck, Mara’s heart twisted. There it was. Not a punch but a quiet nudge. Not cruel, but clear.

Steve added, "You have a guest." Her breath caught. Who could it be? Vera, Valerie, Bella, or Mr. Anderson Sr., he was still recovering after his heart surgery, tasting the names on her tongue made her feel something more than confusion.

She pulled the blanket off her legs, rising slowly. Her hand brushed her belly. Two lives. Two futures. And still, only one heart that hadn’t figured out who it belonged to.

"Okay," she said softly, more to herself than anyone else. "Okay." She stepped into the bathroom, letting the water run. Outside, the house was waiting.

But Ethan’s name still echoed in the back of her mind—just loud enough to make her wonder what her heart would do when she saw him.

__

Mara walked down the stairs slowly, her hand grazing the rail, the soft creak of each step the only sound she could hear above the thump of her heart.

Her movements were lazy at first, still stretching out of sleep, the dream of Ethan barely cooled on her skin. But the second she turned the corner and saw the living room, she froze.

Her breath caught. Her steps faltered. There they were. Her brothers. All four of them.

Stanley, sharp-suited and composed, his jaw set like stone. Stanford, calm but unreadable, fingers steepled under his chin. Stefan, legs stretched, arms folded, his eyes watching like a silent storm was building behind them. And Steve, the oldest, sitting straight as if he were in court, his gaze fixed forward, unreadable but undeniably protective.

They weren’t speaking. They weren’t arguing. They weren’t even pretending to be casual. Their eyes were locked on him.

Ethan.

Sitting in the lone chair across from them, looking like he knew he didn’t belong, but not backing down either.

Mara’s heart gave a wild, traitorous leap. He wasn’t looking at them. He was looking at her.

She stumbled on the last step and caught herself with a soft gasp, but it was too late—the sound had given her away.

Four heads turned.

And Ethan stood.

Her voice broke from her lips before she could stop it. "E-Ethan?"

His name came out breathless. Stunned. Like it had crawled up from the dream and burst into her real world, she wasn’t dreaming, was she? Perhaps her stupid dream decided to give her a taste of reality.

Her brothers were still seated still watching. They didn’t move. They didn’t speak.

It felt like the air was thick with judgment and heat, and something deeper like a storm had entered the room, and everyone was pretending they didn’t hear the thunder yet.

Ethan took a step toward her.

And then their eyes met.

And it was fire.

The kind of fire that had burned too long to be safe. The kind that remembered hands in the dark and promises whispered under sheets. The kind that knew both passion and pain.

Mara couldn’t breathe.

Her pulse roared in her ears.

She was aware of everything: the twitch of Ethan’s jaw, the way his hand curled at his side like he wanted to reach for her, the steady tension in Steve’s shoulders as he watched the exchange. freeωebnovēl.c૦m

No one spoke.

Because everything was already loud.

She swallowed, trying to find her voice, but all she could feel was the heat crawling up her spine and the echo of his name still clinging to her skin from the dream.

Why was he here?

Why now?

Why did part of her want to close the distance, while the other part screamed to run?

Her hand drifted to her belly instinctively.

And that’s when Ethan blinked just once, but Mara saw it: the emotion behind his eyes. The ache. The pull. The unsaid. The war between them was still alive. And her brothers? Sitting there, letting her see it for herself.

Letting her choose.