No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 103

LAUREN’S POV

The whole hall went silent after what Roman just said. His voice, deep and commanding, carried easily over the microphone, cutting through the air like a blade. He stood there on the stage, tall and confident, but his eyes… his eyes were locked directly on me.

For a second, it felt like the two of us were the only people in the entire room. The sound of murmurs, the clinking of wine glasses, even the faint hum of the chandelier lights above, it all faded into a heavy silence that pressed against my chest.

Roman Hale, the man I had gone to such great lengths to avoid for five years, was looking at me as if he had just seen a ghost. Or worse, as if he had been waiting all this time for this very moment.

Slowly, like a ripple spreading across water, the crowd began tracing where his gaze had landed. Heads turned, one by one, until dozens of curious eyes found me standing among them. I could practically feel the weight of their stares settling on my skin, prickling the back of my neck, crawling across my arms.

Even Sofia was staring at me, her usually polished composure cracking into shock. Her mouth hung slightly open, disbelief written all over her face. She hadn’t expected this, not her, not anyone. The CEO, the untouchable Roman Hale, knowing me by name? It was unthinkable.

And then there was Ethan. He turned, first toward the stage where Roman stood, then back at me. His expression was worse than Sofia’s. Pure shock. Confusion. A flash of anger maybe, though it was hidden quickly. His brows furrowed like he was trying to solve an impossible equation, and I already knew the thought in his mind. What was her connection to him?

My nails dug into the soft flesh of my palm, a small sting grounding me in the middle of the storm of eyes. I closed my eyes for half a second and exhaled slowly, trying to steady myself.

Great.

Just great.

He had to say my name like that in front of everyone. As though we were alone. As though no time had passed. Now, instead of fading quietly into the background like I had hoped, I was the blazing center of attention.

Without giving anyone the satisfaction of seeing my reaction, I turned. I didn’t look at Roman. I didn’t look at Sofia, or Ethan, or any of the curious investors whose whispers had already begun to spread. I simply walked out, each step quick, purposeful, and desperate for escape.

The bathroom door swung shut behind me, muffling the swell of voices in the hall. The sudden quiet hit me like a wave, and I gripped the edge of the sink as if it were the only thing keeping ine upright.

I raised my eyes to the mirror.

“Shit,” I whispered, the word slipping past my lips on a shaky breath.

The woman staring back at me looked calm on the surface, shoulders squared, hair still perfectly in place but ! could see it. The tightness in my jaw. The faint glimmer of panic in my eyes. The mask was cracking, and I hated

1/3-

that Roman Hale had the power to do this to me.

Now that he had said my name so casually, so openly, he had basically confirmed what people used to whisper years ago before I left. That ugly rumor, the one I thought had died when I walked away from this place, was alive again, resurrected in a single careless moment.

If anyone still remembered, then tonight would cement it for them. Lauren Darrow the woman who slept with the CEO. That’s what they would say. That’s what they would think. Never mind that it wasn’t as simple,

never mind the truth.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pressing my palms flat against the sink. Why now.

He hadn’t seen me in five years. Five long years of silence, of me building walls around my life brick by brick, only for him to tear them down with one look. And the best thing he could do when he finally saw me again was stand on that stage before investors, employees, strangers, and look at me as if I had been the missing piece of his world.

This was exactly why I hadn’t wanted to come back here.

He’s a businessman. He knows better. He’s supposed to know better. You don’t mix personal history with business, not on a stage where every word, every gesture, is being scrutinized by people who hold stocks and contracts in their hands. And yet… he had done it anyway.

I dragged a shaky hand through my hair, exhaling again.

Wonderful. Tomorrow at work, every step I take through those halls will be met with whispers and sideways glances. They won’t say it outright, of course, but their eyes will speak enough. That’s her. The one he knew. The one from the rumor.

And yet, if I had to admit it, there was one small, petty sliver of satisfaction buried underneath the storm of dread. The look on Sofia’s face. And Ethan’s. The sheer disbelief that someone like me, someone they had dismissed, undermined, and written off was known personally by Roman Hale himself. Their shock was almost worth the trouble it would bring. Almost,

I bit back a humorless laugh. If Sofia thought this revelation was a shock, I could only imagine her expression if she ever discovered the real truth. If she found out that I didn’t just know Roman but I had a child with him.

The thought sent a ripple through me, and I quickly shook it away. That was one truth I had no intention of sharing. Not now. Not ever.

Minutes passed. I wasn’t sure how many. Long enough for my breathing to steady, for my pulse to stop hammering against my ribs. By now, Roman must have continued with his speech. The tension, the shock that had gripped the hall, would have thinned out, replaced by polite applause and careful notes from investors pretending nothing had happened.

It should be safe to return now. At least safer. Still, I knew the moment I stepped back inside, every pair of eyes would find me again. And tomorrow, the gossip would begin in earnest. There was no avoiding that.

Straightening, I brushed invisible wrinkles from my dress, gathered myself, and walked toward the exit. The cool metal of the handle pressed against my palm, grounding me once more before I pulled the door open.

2/3

I froze.

Two men in dark suits stood directly outside the women’s bathroom. Their broad shoulders blocked the hallway, their sharp eyes scanning the space with practiced vigilance. Everything about them screamed bodyguards – polished shoes, earpieces glinting faintly, posture alert but contained.

But what were they doing here, stationed outside the ladies‘ bathroom?

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