No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 73

LAUREN'S POV

Waking up today felt entirely different — lighter, calmer, far better than the way I had woken up yesterday with that hammering headache pounding behind my eyes. At least today I could open them without wincing, without the sharp sting of regret for a night I couldn’t remember. No confusion about how I had gotten into a strange room, no unfamiliar ceiling above my head. Just my own space, my own bed, and the fresh clarity of morning.

Tessa had already left for work, her absence noticeable in the apartment. She was always up early, full of energy that I honestly envied. I was about to head out myself. It was my first day at the new job, and the nerves crawling beneath my skin were almost unbearable. The memory of what Tessa had told me last night replayed in my head like a chant, a small comfort to my anxiety: You won’t be seeing your boss all the time. He’s the CEO, but he doesn’t hover over the employees.

That was all I wanted — distance. If her words turned out to be true, then maybe things could actually work out peacefully for me at this workplace. The last thing I needed was unnecessary complications.

Standing in front of the mirror, I tugged at my hair, making sure every strand was perfectly in place. I had taken my time with it this morning — straightened, brushed, and styled neatly. Honestly, I didn’t even understand why I was putting so much effort into it. Yesterday, Roman had indirectly pointed out that my hair looked horrible. His words had stung, even though part of it had been his fault. Still, I hated how quickly I had internalized that criticism, how I had let it crawl under my skin and influence me.

I frowned at my reflection. Why am I even caring? I didn’t want to see his face, didn’t want him anywhere near my thoughts. And yet, here I was, adjusting my appearance because of something he said.

Shaking the thought away, I straightened the hem of my skirt, smoothing the fabric until it lay flat. Regardless of Roman, it was my first day, and I wanted to look good, presentable, and professional. That was reason enough.

My phone buzzed on the nightstand, breaking my chain of thoughts. A notification popped up: Your ride has arrived.

Grabbing my bag, I quickly locked the door behind me and stepped outside. The ride was smooth, the city bustling with its usual noise and rhythm. My nerves increased with every passing street, my heart pounding faster the closer we got to the office. By the time we pulled up in front of the tall glass building, my palms were already damp with sweat.

Stepping into the building, I felt the way everyone stared at me immediately. Dozens of eyes followed me as I crossed the lobby. Their gazes weren’t warm or welcoming. Instead, they carried that sharp edge of curiosity, judgment, maybe even disapproval. Whispers rippled here and there, soft enough that I couldn’t make out the words, but I could feel the intent behind them.

I lifted my chin and ignored them, forcing my steps to remain steady as I headed straight for the manager’s office. I wouldn’t let their opinions shake me, not on my very first day.

When I reached the door, I paused for a second to gather my courage. Then I knocked — three quick taps before waiting for permission to enter. After a moment, I heard the manager’s voice from inside, calm but firm: “Come in.”

I pushed the door open and stepped inside, plastering a bright smile across my face. “Good morning, ma'am,” I greeted politely, my voice carrying more confidence than I actually felt.

But the smile faltered slightly when my eyes scanned the room. She wasn’t alone.

Seated across from her were three men, sharply dressed in suits, their postures straight and attentive. They looked like they were in the middle of discussing something important, something serious, and my sudden appearance had interrupted the flow of their conversation.

For a moment, I felt like I had walked into the wrong room, like I had barged into a private meeting where I didn’t belong. Their eyes shifted to me — three pairs of assessing stares that made me feel like I was standing under a spotlight.

The air in the office was thick with authority, and the weight of it pressed against my chest. My smile wavered, but I forced it back, determined not to let my nerves show.

Lifting my hand in a small, awkward gesture, I gave them a little wave. “Hello,” I said softly, my voice carrying a polite warmth even though my insides twisted with unease. I walked in closer, hoping I hadn’t just made a terrible first impression on my very first day.

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