No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 140

ETHAN’S POV

Sophia’s face carried a mixture of innocence and Irritation now, as if I’d accused her of some petty treachery “We agreed cat this,” she insisted softly “I thought you know.” There was the smallest tremble in her voice, maybe embarrassment, maybe guilt. The thing about alliances is that they require calibration, Sophia and I had been on the same page until this very second Now the margins have shifted.

I considered my options. Backtrack and pretend I’d misspoken? That would look weak. Tell them the truth about my intentions with Cassandra and risk the entire stratagem? That would be reckless. Pivot to another lie, an elegant half–truth that closed the gap without exposing my map? That was tempting. Manipulation is an art, timing is the brush. But whatever I chose had to be delivered with the sort of calm that suggested absolute control. No tremors, no flaring nostrils, no heat in my hands.

The most dangerous part of being a man who engineers other people’s lives is that sometimes you underestimate how much those lives can grab back. I’d thought I could place Cassandra like a chess piece and move on. Sophia’s comment reminded me of the human element–miscommunication, emotion, pride. People aren’t machines. They mishen They hope. They second- guess. They ruin perfectly good plans simply by being themselves.

Sandra shifted in her chair, the thin sound of fabric against leather, and my mind raced through contingencies. I needed to steady the narrative, to shepherd the conversation back to safer ground without exposing the larger design. I needed to make Sophia see that this wasn’t the moment for public offers, and I needed Cassandra to believe that the dream wasn’t dead, only delayed.

So I cleared my throat, trying to keep my demeanor the same as I thought of how I was going to get out of this little mess

“Yes, we spoke about it yesterday,” I began, my voice low, measured. I let my eyes rest on Sophia for the barest second, letting the look on my face do half the work. She’d heard the plan once; now all I needed was for her to read the implied addendum that this conversation was fragile and required discretion.

“But I forgot to tell you this morning before you left for the café,” I continued, keeping my tone casual, almost apologetic. “My secretary called, they found someone who fits the job perfectly, and the person got hired this morning. That’s why I said the job is no longer available.”

I hoped the story sounded plausible; I hoped the timing sounded like the kind of efficient administrative miracle that happens in big companies.

“Something that important happened and we didn’t celebrate?” Sophia asked, surprise bleeding into amusement. She looked affronted on Cassandra’s behalf, small indignations making her human and, in odd ways, useful.

“We’ll celebrate when the time comes,” I said, “Right now, let’s just focus.” I turned my attention back to Cassandra, letting the air settle heavily before I pushed the knife in a little further with a softer edge.

“As I was saying, the job you just asked about isn’t available but there’s another position with your name calling for it.” I leaned forward, the movement deliberate

Her brow lifted, curiosity across her face.

“What position is that?” Cassandra asked, voice careful now.

“I need an inside man to drag Lauren out of that position and bring down Hale Industries,” I said plainly, letting the words land and settle like concrete. “I need someone they trust so much that they would never suspect. And that person is you.”

The moment the sentence finished, the living room shrank, I could see the look on her face as she was trying to map which part of the offer was real and which part was smoke. I felt the tide begin to turn.

“Hold on,” she said, “You want me to work for you as a spy while still continuing my job at Hale Industries?”

“Well, yeah… you can put it that way.” I let myself grin the fraction of a degree that suggested mischief without menace. “Now

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CHAPTER 130

+26 BONUS

this boils down to the question Soplita asked you back at the café. How about you make your own choice? Those people have treated you wrongly, and you know it. They need to pay, and you can do something about that.”

I rested back in my chair and crossed my legs, the motion casual, the body language of a man who’d rehearsed this delivery. Her face changed, the calculation was visible now, a map of the gears turning behind her eyes. That particular look told me I’d struck the right nerve pain softened by opportunity, anger polished by the scent of revenge.

All I needed now was a few seconds. Let her debate quietly with herself; let the hatred bloom so bright it eclipses any rational fear. Hatred makes decisions easy. It makes people reckless. It makes them useful.

I caught myself checking my watch not because I needed to know the time but because it was an anchor, a small ritual that kept my pulse steady. A smile tugged at my lips, the kind that arrives when mechanics predict outcome. “Three, two, one,” I mouthed silently as if counting down the seconds before a trapdoor opened.

“Well, the whole reason I came to meet Sophia is because I want us to be allies and work together to bring down Lauren,” Cassandra said, and I could hear the steel that had been welded into her when she repeated that phrase. “And now you’re telling me you’re going to pay me just to give you information about what’s happening in Hale Industries? Why wouldn’t I accept?”

Test as I predicted, she fell for the bait. She sailed right into the net of her own fury.

you close from work and I’ll “Alright then,” I said, keeping my voice steady, business–like. “Come back here tomorrow aft brief you on everything you’re going to do, how you’re going to do it, and when you’re going to do it.”

The words had to be precise. Too much detail now, and she might reconsider

“Would we also discuss the payment?” she asked out of nowhere, as if the practicalities of betrayal mattered to her as much as the poison.

“Sure, why not?” I offered a smile I didn’t mean, the kind that sells a lie with plausible deniability. Money lubricates most loyalties; that’s a truth I never ignored. If she thought this was about cash and title, she’d be easier to control. If she thought it was about principle, she might become dangerous.

She rose from her chair, the motion small but significant, a woman stepping up to a new stage. Sophia stood with her, a quiet show of solidarity, while I rose as well and extended my hand. The handshake sealed more than an agreement; it bonded conspiracy with ritual.

“I’m glad we can put our heads together to bring those people down,” I said, letting the words hang in the air with both promise and menace. “You know the saying: two heads are better than one. Well, it’s about to be tested.”

Her grip was firm, eager almost. Sophia’s face had that bright, naïve sheen of someone who loves the romance of a plan without fully owning its consequences. Cassandra’s eyes glinted with that dangerous mix of triumph and wounded pride, the kind that can topple a company if channeled correctly.

Inside, I catalogued the risks like a ledger: who would notice first, what small inconsistencies might tip off Roman’s people, which meetings could she plausibly attend without raising suspicion. The math ran through my head quickly — variables, probabilities, contingency lines mapped with the precision of a surgeon.

She would be useful; she would be volatile. I’d keep her close enough to the fire that she’d burn for me and not for herself.

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