No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 188

LAUREN’S POV

Today felt like a crushing, endless failure. The whole day had slipped through our fingers and with it any hope of finding Aria. Ethan was nowhere to be found. Aria was nowhere. I lay flat across the backseat of the car as if it were my bed, the leather cool beneath my cheek. The tears I had been holding so tightly all day began to leak out anyway, slow and relentless. There was nothing I could do to stop it.

а

The pain sat in my chest like a weight I hadn’t felt since Elena died. That grief had been a raw, jagged thing bright, unbearable wound and today that old ache came back, ugly and familiar. Only now it was mixed with a fear so sharp I could hardly breathe, what if Aria wasn’t alive? The thought looped through my mind, relentless. He could have taken her somewhere and killed her, then disappeared. The silence of the last few hours did nothing to soothe that fear; if Ethan wanted to get back at me, I expected a call by now, a ransom demand, a taunt, anything. Instead, there was nothing. Nothing but silence, and silence feels worse than any scream.

Before I left for work this morning I’d kissed Aria on her forehead and told myself how perfect the party would be. I had imagined her little face when she opened presents, the way she’d squeal over a balloon. Instead, I had left her exposed, with a monster who had no right to even exist in the space where our lives used to be safe. The memory of that tiny dress folded on her bed flashed in front of my eyes, and the guilt tightened around my throat.

“We’re going to find her, Lauren,” Roman said. His voice came from the front seat, steady and low. He had probably heard me crying; sometimes his quiet way of speaking cut through my storm better than anything else.

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I wanted to believe him I wanted to cradle that sentence like a lifeline but belief was hard to latch onto when all our leads had turned into dead ends. “How?” I managed, my voice barely a croak. “We can’t find Ethan. He’s not at his house. His company is closed. It’s like we’re chasing a ghost. We’ve given him enough time to do whatever he wanted with Aria.” The words came out in a rush, each one a new crack in my composure.

“Don’t say that,” Roman replied immediately, glancing up at the rearview mirror as if to make sure I heard him clearly. “No matter how low the odds seem, we can’t fall apart. We need to stay positive. We need to keep our heads clear.” There was that same measured tone he used at the office, the one that calmed people and cut through panic. He wasn’t dismissing my fear; he was trying to steady the ship.

I turned my face away, burying it in the seat. Sometimes, talking didn’t help. Sometimes you need silence, the kind that lets your body do the crying it needs to do, then drains you until you’re empty enough to think straight. Roman seemed to understand that; he didn’t press me for details or offer platitudes that sounded tinny and meaningless. He simply sat there, a quiet presence, setting the pace for the next step.

I wondered, not for the first time, what was going on behind his eyes. He had just discovered he was a father, a fact that should have filled him with quick, bright joy. Instead, within days he’d been yanked into a nightmare where his little girl looked at him as the man who should protect her, and now she was gone. He had barely had a chance to be a father, barely had the chance to even tell Aria that he was her father before being forced into this role, and yet the composure in him was steady as stone. How could he manage that calm? Was it anger shaped into focus? Or was it some buried part of him that simply refused to break?

The car slowed, and I could tell we’d reached his villa before I opened my eyes. I wiped at my face with the back of my hand, smudging streaks of saltwater that left faint trails down my cheeks. I drew a breath and gathered myself as best I could. If I was going to stand, and fight, and go on, I had to look like someone who could do it.

1/2

When the door opened I stepped out and for a moment absurdly I admired the place. The lights brightened the garden like lanterns, each one catching on the trim and the clean lines of the stone path. His cars sat in the drive, polished and obedient, and the entire place felt impossibly calm, like a painting of safety. The contrast was almost cruel. Here, within these walls, people could rest. Outside, my life had been ripped apart.

“Come, let’s go in,” Roman said. His voice was steady with direction, the way he gave orders at work, the way he had just now given me a lifeline I could cling to.

We walked the path together; the small lights embedded in the ground flickered on as we went, mapping our steps. It was the first time I’d ever been to his house. I had expected it to be fine, but it was better than fine tall ceilings, white walls, and an ease that made my breath hitch. Everything in here quietly said power and control. No stray toys on the floor, no chaotic pile of laundry, just order. It seemed like the kind of place where nothing unexpected could, or would, break through. And yet right now I couldn’t shake the knowledge that danger had found me anyway.

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