No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 189

LAUREN’S POV

“Come on, you haven’t eaten anything all day. My chef will prepare something nice for you to eat,” Roman said, his voice gentle yet firm, like he was trying to convince a stubborn child.

Normally, those words might’ve sounded comforting -the thought of a warm meal, a quiet space, and someone genuinely caring about how I felt. But right now, they only felt like an echo in my head. The idea of food disgusted me. How could I sit at a dining table, eating good food prepared by a chef, when I didn’t even know if my daughter had eaten anything since she was taken? The thought of Arla being hungry, scared, and alone somewhere made my stomach twist painfully.

“No, I’m not in the mood,” I said, shaking my head, my voice flat.

“But…”

I didn’t even let him finish. “I’d just like to go to my room and rest, maybe think,” I interrupted softly, not wanting this to turn into an argument. I didn’t have the strength for that.

Roman studied me for a moment. I could see it in his eyes – the worry, the helplessness. He wanted to do something, to fix things, but there was nothing either of us could do right now except wait and plan for the next step.

“Alright,” he said finally, his tone low, calm.

“Would you like me to come stay with you?” Tessa asked, stepping closer. Her eyes were filled with sympathy.

“No, I’m okay. I’d like to be alone,” I said again, my voice barely a whisper. Even I could hear how lifeless it sounded. It didn’t even sound like me anymore. It was as though part of my soul had been ripped away, and I knew exactly what, or rather, who that missing piece was.

Roman began walking up the stairs, and I followed behind him quietly. The entire house was silent except for the faint echo of our footsteps. When he stopped in front of one of the doors, I paused too.

He pushed it open and gestured inside. “You can stay here,” he said.

I stepped to the doorway and looked around. The room was beautiful, elegant in a quiet, expensive kind of way. Cream–colored walls, gold–trimmed curtains, and a large window that overlooked the garden outside. The bed looked like something out of a hotel, soft and impossibly neat. It was bigger than my own master bedroom back home, and this wasn’t even the master room.

“If you need anything from the kitchen or anything at all,” Roman continued, pointing to a small table near the corner, “there’s a notebook beside the phone over there. In it are all my staff’s numbers. You can call and ask them to bring whatever you need.”

I turned to face him and gave him a small nod.

“I’ve already spoken to my friends,” he went on, his voice a little firmer now. “I told them how bad and severe the situation is. They’re going to do everything they can to help find her. My private investigator is coming over here in the morning. We’re not going to rest until we find her. And we will.”

1/3

He said it like a promise, like he believed every word of it.

“Just get some rest, okay?” he added before turning to leave. The door clicked softly shut behind him.

I walked around the large bed and sat down slowly, my eyes wandering across the room again. Everything was too perfect, and that made me feel worse. My daughter was somewhere out there, possibly terrified, while I was in a warm room with flutty pillows and a thick duvet. It felt wrong.

I laid down anyway, pulling the duvet over me as I took out my phone. The glow of the screen lit up the darkness around me. I opened the internet, and there he was Ethan’s face was plastered all over the news. The police

were already searching for him.

Roman had even placed a $100,000 reward for anyone who found Arla and contacted him. That number glared at me from the headline. At least it meant more people were looking not just the cops. People who needed that money would be out there searching too.

Still, it didn’t make me feel any lighter.

I opened my photo gallery instead, scrolling through all the pictures I had of Arla. My chest ached with every swipe. There she was, her cheeks full of rice during lunch one afternoon. Then another photo, of her tiny hands covered in flour when she’d tried to help me bake cookies.

A video followed, showing Aria sneaking into the kitchen, her little eyes darting around as she tried to steal chocolate from the counter. When I’d called her name from behind the camera, she’d jumped, hiding the chocolate behind her back and grinning widely.

A small, broken laugh escaped my lips as I watched it. I could almost hear her tiny voice in my head, high- pitched and full of life.

Then, without realizing it, my laughter faded. My throat tightened, and before I knew it, tears were streaming down my face again. I pressed the phone against my chest, right over my heart.

“Please be safe” I whispered into the silence.

The room was quiet again, except for my soft sobs.

Tomorrow would be a new day, and I couldn’t give up, not when my daughter was still out there.

****

When I opened my eyes again, sunlight was spilling softly into the room. The morning had arrived, though it didn’t feel like a new beginning just another day without my daughter.

My phone was still in my hand, the screen dark. It didn’t even feel like I’d slept. My body felt heavy, and my mind was foggy.

I sat up slowly, brushing a hand through my tangled hair and letting out a deep sigh.

Then came a soft knock on the door.

Before I could even respond, the door opened, and three gleaming silver lids. The smell hit me almost instantly

maids walked in. They each carried trays covered with

eggs, bacon, pancakes, and fresh coffee.

–

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