The Billionaire CEO Betrays his Wife: He wants her back-Chapter 248: Middle ground

Mara wakes up feeling alive as she plans the biggest event of the year: the twins’ fifth birthday.

She stood in her bedroom, her gaze drifted to the velvet box tucked in the drawer, still housing Refael’s ring. She opened it once more—just for a moment—and smiled. Then she looked at the framed photos on her dresser: her mother’s kind eyes, her father’s strong arms, Grandpa’s soft grin. Then Maria, frozen mid-laugh, and Rafael, his eyes forever gentle.

"Good morning," she whispered fondly. She closed the drawer gently and turned, just in time for the chaos to come barreling in.

"Mummy!" Audrey stormed into the room, arms flailing like a dramatic actress at the peak of her scene. "Can we have a costume party for our birthday? Please!"

"That’s stupid," Andrew called from behind her, trailing in with a furrowed brow and a logic-driven sigh. "Costume parties are for babies."

"It’s not stupid," Audrey snapped, turning on her brother with her fists clenched. "You’re just boring!"

"I’m not boring—I’m realistic," Andrew muttered, crossing his arms. "Let Isabella decide. She’s the middle vote."

As if on cue, Isabella peeked her head in, clutching a stuffed unicorn by the neck. Her big eyes widened the way they always did when caught in the middle of the siblings’ battles.

"Mama," she said, slipping to Mara’s side and clutching her dress, "Can I not decide, please?"

Mara burst out laughing.

"Come here," she said, kneeling down and wrapping Isabella in her arms, her other arm pulling Andrew and Audrey close. "All of you. Listen. We are absolutely having a party."

"Costume party?" Audrey beamed.

"Regular party?" Andrew asked hopefully.

"Enough, you two!" Mara laughed as the twins argued playfully across the living room. "Leave Isabella out of this."

Isabella blinked up at them, clutching her stuffed unicorn like a tiny referee caught in the middle of a battle.

"Fine," Mara sighed, pretending to be stern. "You have until tonight to figure it out. Settle it among yourselves."

Then, softening, she walked over and kissed each twin on the cheek. "Now come here."

She crouched beside Isabella and whispered, "Don’t let them bribe you, okay? You’re smarter than both of them combined."

Isabella giggled as the twins exchanged glances, pretending to be offended, but secretly glowing from the affection.

Mara just shook her head, watching them head back. The bond between the three of them was unbreakable. Even though Isabella wasn’t their blood sister, she was their peacekeeper—their shared heart. Whatever she said, they listened and they loved her fiercely.

With the household quieting down, Mara got ready for work. She grabbed her bag and headed to the office.

Life had found a new rhythm.

She worked. Came home. Ate dinner with her brothers and their wives. The once-scattered Shepherd family had grown into something beautiful—no longer just surviving, but thriving. The house was full of laughter, shared chores, inside jokes, and the kind of love that stitched old wounds into soft, healing scars.

That night passed like many others—until midnight came.

Mara, as always, was the first to wake.

Moments later, the footsteps of her brothers echoed quietly behind her—Steve, Stanley, Stanford, and Stefan all dressed in pajamas and sleepy smiles, forming a familiar procession down the hallway.

It had become tradition now—midnight birthday greetings, sneaking into the kids’ room to be the first to say "happy birthday."

But when they pushed the door open, they paused.

The twins were already awake, sitting cross-legged on the bed, talking excitedly to someone on a video call.

"Who are they talking to at this hour?" Steve whispered.

Stanley shrugged. "Who else?"

"Aww," Stefan groaned dramatically. "We’re late again!" Without waiting, he leapt onto the bed, wrapping his arms around the twin. "Happy birthday, you little rascals!"

The rest of the brothers followed, laughing, piling into the room in a wave of affection.

The twins shrieked with joy, already used to the chaos of midnight birthday cuddles.

Mara stood in the doorway, watching the scene—her family tangled in a mess of arms and laughter, Isabella now crawling over for her turn to be squished in the middle.

The celebration had spilled into their dreams and was now fully alive in the morning light. They gathered around the cake, three candles, one for each of them, flickering with hope. The room hummed with love and laughter. Together, the twins and Isabella blew out the candles, their cheeks puffed, eyes squeezed shut, wishes whispered in their hearts.

The Shepherd brothers, now uncles of many and men of their own grown stories, left behind neatly wrapped gifts and big hugs before retreating to their rooms. Mara bent to kiss each child goodnight again, tucking them under the sheets with practiced care. "Happy birthday, my superstars."

When she got to Isabella, she paused. "An extra kiss for the bravest girl I know," she whispered, brushing a curl behind her ear.

By sunrise, the house was stirring again. Mara could hear Audrey and Andrew arguing softly—again. But this time, to her surprise, Andrew had managed to convince Audrey to drop the costume party idea. She didn’t know how—maybe it was logic, or more likely, Isabella’s quiet plea to be left out of it. Whatever it was, peace was restored. At least, for now.

Guests arrived in waves—only family and close friends, just the way Mara liked it. Laughter spilled into the garden, balloons floated above the trees, and wrapping paper littered the floor like confetti.

Then they saw him.

Ethan.

The twins were the first to spot him—he hadn’t even made it halfway into the yard before they tackled him in a full-speed hug. Isabella wasn’t far behind, her arms wrapping around his waist as he leaned down to scoop them all up one by one, peppering their cheeks with kisses, holding each of them just a little longer.

He brought gifts, of course—he always did. But more than that, he brought a steady presence. He wasn’t always around, not physically. He traveled a lot. But he never missed the moments that mattered—birthdays, school recitals, nights when one of them had a bad dream and called him crying. Ethan showed up. He always had.

Mara watched from across the yard, her eyes following him for a moment too long. Then, just as quickly, she turned her attention back to the guests. There were drinks to serve, hugs to give, and laughter to be shared.

But time had other plans.

When the cake was brought out—three tiers, one for each child’s favorite flavor—Andrew reached for Mara’s hand, his little fingers lacing through hers, tugging gently.

"Mummy," he whispered, "stand here."

Before she could question it, he had led her straight to Ethan’s side.

It was the first time in four years that they had stood so close. Not just passing by. Not out of obligation. But here. Together. And the twin children stood just in front of them, grinning up at their towering, awkward parents.

Ethan turned to her, really looked. "Hey," he said quietly.

Mara met his eyes. They were a little older, a little softer. Hers probably were too.

"Hi," she said back.

And just like that, the moment stretched. The children bowed over the cake, giggling as they blew out the candles together. Mara and Ethan, standing shoulder to shoulder, joined them.

The crowd clapped. Phones clicked. And Mara... she felt something shift.

****

Ethan’s POV

There she was. My Mara. It’s been five years—five entire years—and still, my heart hasn’t figured out how to stop beating for this woman.

I watched her from across the garden, her dress swaying as she leaned down to tie Isabella’s shoelace, laughter spilling from her lips like sunlight. She looked radiant—not just beautiful, but graceful, grounded. The kind of woman who had seen storms and chosen to bloom anyway.

She was twenty when we first met. Just a girl, really. Fiery and fragile, full of hope, she never let the world steal from her. And now she was twenty-five, and somehow even more breathtaking than I remembered.

God, I loved her.

I never stopped. Not even when I should have let go. Not even when I tried to.

And Rafael... Rafael loved her in all the ways I didn’t. In the ways I should have. I saw it. I felt it. And I hated how much I admired it. He was gentle, intentional, a man who knew what he wanted and didn’t hesitate. He didn’t break her like I did.

I broke her. I don’t need anyone to remind me.

But I’ve learned. Over the past five years, I’ve learned what it means to show up for others, for myself, and especially for those I love. I’ve traveled so much I’ve forgotten how it feels to stay still, but I never once missed a birthday, a performance, a late-night call. The twins know they can count on me. Isabella trusts me. She is mine, even if not by blood, and I’d give anything to live under the same roof with them again. To give them that wholeness.

To give her that wholeness if she wants it, which I know she doesn’t, she has her four brothers to fill that role, but still, I can’t stop dreaming.

I called the twins just before dawn this morning. Andrew answered first, still half asleep but grinning. Audrey shouted something about costume dresses in the background. And Audrey whispered, "I miss you, Daddy." That was enough to make me drive through the night.

But now, standing here, watching Mara from behind as she floats through her own carefully rebuilt world, I wonder—

Do I even have the right to ask her to choose me again? Do I have the courage?

Because God knows I want that more than anything in this world.

More than all the cases I’ve won. More than the cities I’ve traveled to. I want her. I want our kids. I want the loud mornings, the spilled cereal, the chaos of matching socks and school runs. I want the long nights where we sit on the porch and talk about nothing. I want her head on my chest and her laugh in our hallway.

I want to be lucky again. To be chosen again. And as Andrew drags Mara closer to me during the cake cutting, her hand brushing lightly against mine, I swear—just for a second—I see it in her eyes.

A softness. A maybe. A beginning.

****

Life had been hard. It had taken Mara through fire and grief and rebirth. She had fought, clawed her way back into joy. She had become a mother, a foundation builder, a survivor.

And she was happy. Truly, finally, peacefully happy.

But as she looked out over her children, over her family, and yes—at Ethan, who was still looking at her like maybe he still remembered the girl she used to be—Mara felt something spark.

A new ache. A familiar hunger.

God, she thought, smirking to herself, it’s been five years since I’ve been laid. Five years. She’d almost forgotten what it felt like to be touched for herself and not just as "Mummy."

But she shook the thought away with a laugh. She was a happy woman. A proud mother. A successful woman with a purpose.

And yet... maybe—just maybe—she was also ready for the next Chapter.

The one after survival.

The one where joy isn’t just hard-earned, but freely taken.

Because if life had taught her anything... It’s that it always has one more surprise waiting.

The End.

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