No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 173

ETHAN’S POINT OF VIEW

The screech of my car tires shattered the stillness as I slammed to a halt in the driveway. The engine’s low rumble faded, but it did nothing to quell the storm raging inside me. Before the driver could even reach for the door handle, I yanked it open with a harsh jerk and climbed out, slamming the door behind me so forcefully that the sharp bang echoed through the quiet suburban street. The noise felt like a punctuation mark—final, angry, and impossible to ignore. My jaw tightened as I stormed toward the front entrance, each heavy step fueled by a growing frustration I could no longer suppress.

It didn’t matter that my arm was still encased in a cast, or that every movement sent a dull, throbbing ache radiating up to my shoulder. The pain had become a background noise, a constant companion since that disastrous day when Roman decided to “teach me a lesson.” Just the thought of that moment made my blood boil hotter, a fire that refused to die down.

The ride home had been agonizing. Sitting there, staring out through the tinted windows, my mind was consumed by the chaos that awaited me: the backlash, the headlines, the investors who would see that damned article. My thoughts spun out of control. How much damage would this cause? How many would pull their funding? Could I contain the fallout before it spiraled even further? Each unanswered question only fed the fire of my anger.

By the time I reached the front door, I was on the edge of losing it. I pushed the door open and stepped inside.

What I saw made me freeze for a moment, then ignite with fury.

Every single maid, housekeeper, and cleaner in the mansion was gathered in the living room, their faces pale and their eyes glued to the massive television mounted on the wall. None of them even noticed my entrance. Their bodies were tense, their nerves palpable, and some looked downright frightened.

Confusion flickered through me briefly before I spotted what was on the screen.

My face.

Huge, clear, and accompanied by a headline that twisted my gut like a knife.

“What are you all doing here?!” I demanded, my voice booming through the room. Instantly, every maid jumped, their heads snapping toward me. “Is this what I’m paying you for? Standing around in my living room, watching television?”

Silence. They just stared back at me, wide-eyed and trembling.

“If you don’t want to lose your jobs, I suggest you get back to work—now!”

That was the final straw. The room erupted into frantic movement. They scattered like startled birds, rushing off to the kitchen, down the hallways—anywhere but here. Within seconds, the living room was empty except for one person.

Sophia.

She remained seated on the white leather couch, legs crossed elegantly, phone in one hand and remote in the other. Her face wasn’t calm, though; her brows were furrowed deeply, and her lips pressed into a thin, trembling line. She was frozen in place, glued to the same broadcast.

CHAPTER 0173

+25 BONUS

I ran a hand through my hair, trying to steady my ragged breathing. “Sophia,” I said, pacing in front of the coffee table, “we need to talk. This is important.”

“I know,” she replied flatly before I could say another word. “I already saw it.”

Her tone was sharp, edged with bitterness.

“What do you mean you saw it?” I asked, turning toward her.

She raised the remote and pointed at the television. “You’re not just trending online, Ethan. You’re everywhere. CNN, Fox, CNBC—they’re all covering it. You’re the headline story.”

Her words hit me like a slap across the face.

I turned back to the TV. The screen flickered with live footage from a newsroom. Two anchors sat side by side—a man and a woman—with a blown-up photo of me from years ago behind them, standing beside my car as reporters swarmed around.

The caption beneath read: *‘Ethan Black Scandal Resurfaces: Daughter’s Death and Media Cover-Up.’*

My throat tightened painfully as I listened.

“Look, Grace,” the male anchor said, his voice grave and somber. “I’m a father. God forbid, if something ever happened to my daughter, I would never even consider covering it up. Not for a second.”

The female anchor nodded, sympathy painted heavily across her face.

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