No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 89

CHAPTER 089

ETHAN’S POV

The metallic clink of my Zippo lighter echoed through the living room, sharp and steady, like a drumbeat that matched the restless pounding of my thoughts. Open. Close. Open. Close. The flame barely lasted a second each time before I snapped the lid shut, but the sound filled every corner of the silent house. My hand moved automatically, more out of habit than anything, while my legs stayed crossed, and my chin rested heavily against my palm. My gaze kept drifting between the clock on the wall and the front door, as though sheer willpower could make it swing open sooner.

On the outside, I might have looked calm, collected even. The kind of man who had everything under control. But inside, that was far from the truth. Beneath my stillness, the rage inside me was bubbling, pressing hard against the surface, and I was barely keeping it from boiling over.

The maids had already sensed it. They always did. I told them to remain in the kitchen and stay there until I had cooled off. It was better for everyone that way. I didn’t want their nervous glances or the way they tended to tiptoe past me as though I were some unpredictable storm. Tonight, I was exactly that.

Because tonight, I was waiting for Sofia. And Sofia had crossed the line.

—

For months, she had been doing this disappearing every Saturday like it was her tradition. At first, I told myself it was harmless. A habit she would eventually outgrow once the reality of marriage settled in. I thought she would slow down, maybe stop entirely once she realized she wasn’t single anymore. But week after week, she proved me wrong.

And the part that infuriated me the most, the part that kept clawing at me was the fact that she had a five-year- old son sleeping upstairs. A son who needed his mother. What kind of woman left early in the morning, left me to care for the boy, and then dragged herself back home close to midnight?

I had warned her. God knows I had warned her enough times. But she brushed me off each time, as though my words carried no weight. As though I was some overbearing nuisance rather than her husband. I honestly couldn’t understand it. She didn’t have a job. She didn’t work late hours. There was no obligation pulling her away from home. I was the provider. I made sure everything we had was secure. So why couldn’t she simply stay home and do her part? Why couldn’t she just be the mother she was supposed to be?

Even if she wanted to see her friends, fine. I wasn’t unreasonable. But coming back at midnight? Repeating the same cycle every single week as though this family meant nothing to her?

Lauren never did this. Lauren… no matter her flaws, no matter the chaos between us, she was never this careless. She never abandoned her role in such a blatant, reckless way. With her, home came first, always. But with Sofia, it was as though I was married to a ghost that only returned when the night was nearly over,

My jaw tightened as I shifted on the couch, the lighter still snapping open and shut in my hand. Upstairs, the boy slept peacefully, blissfully unaware of the tension simmering below. The maids whispered in the kitchen, waiting for the storm to pass. And me? I sat there in silence, replaying every argument we had about this, every broken promise, every excuse.

And then finally I heard it.

The low hum of an engine pulling into the driveway. The screech of tires coming to a stop. My eyes

flickered

toward the door, and for the first time all night, my chest tightened. The car engine cut off. She was back.

The door opened a moment later, and Sofia stepped inside. The faint scent of her perfume lingered behind her, sharp and out of place in the stale, heavy air of the living room. Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she entered, her brows furrowed almost instantly when she saw me still awake.

—

I never usually waited up for her. That was the routine she came in late, I went to bed, and in the morning we’d have some halfhearted argument that ended with nothing changing. But tonight was different. Tonight, she would see exactly how done I was with this.

“Hi, honey,” she said casually, her tone far too light for someone walking into a battlefield. She walked closer, the smallest smile tugging at her lips, as though pretending things were normal would make it so.

I dropped the lighter onto the coffee table with a clack and rose slowly to my feet. My anger was written all over my face I knew it, and she knew it. It could be seen from a mile away.

“Have you seen the time?” I asked, my voice cutting sharply through the silence, my hand gesturing toward the

clock on the wall.

She glanced at it briefly, then back at me. No shame. No guilt. Just indifference.

“Yes,” she said smoothly, “I was held up in traffic.”

Traffic.

That was her excuse tonight.

I laughed dryly, a sound that carried more bitterness than humor. “Oh, don’t give me that bullshit, Sofia. Don’t

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