No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 177

ROMAN’S POINT OF VIEW

“Have you seen this?” I asked, placing my tablet on the desk between us, the screen glowing like both a challenge and a trophy.

Lauren reached out for it, sitting across from me with that calm, deliberate composure she always wore so well. As she scrolled through the headlines, a subtle, satisfied smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. It was a quiet expression, almost intimate—like someone who had just watched a carefully laid plan fall perfectly into place and was now savoring the first small victory before the real work began.

—

I found myself watching her more than I intended. There was still a flicker of unease inside me, a reflexive wariness that showed up as a slight twitch behind my eyes whenever she wielded power that didn’t come from a title or money. Right now, her influence came from something far more potent: the raw, unfiltered truth. That kind of leverage made investors run for cover.

The tablet displayed a flood of articles, reposts, and social media snippets. Some were clinical, professional analyses about market repercussions. Others were far less restrained—opinion pieces, hot takes, and moralizing editorials that fed the frenzy of headlines. Altogether, it resembled a seismic map radiating out from one epicenter: Ethan Black.

“That was the goal,” Lauren said, setting the tablet down and folding her hands calmly. She looked like someone who had done exactly what needed to be done. “I wanted everyone to know. Not just the boardrooms and investors—everyone.”

Her tone wasn’t triumphant in a careless way. It was measured, almost weary, and that made me respect her even more. She had turned grief and memory into a weapon to force a reckoning, and that took a kind of courage I hadn’t fully appreciated before. I felt my pride soften—though not for Ethan, but for her.

We both knew the information was powerful. What surprised none of us was how fast it spread. Just a few days ago, I’d helped her expose what had been buried, and now, sitting in my office, we were witnessing the fallout: Black Corporation had taken a massive hit. Two billion dollars vanished within hours. By morning, the stock was plummeting in a way that left even the most seasoned analysts on TV visibly shaken. Blogs had become front-page news. Social media had turned into a courtroom. People were quick to judge when the facts had a face they could direct their anger at.

“This morning, the blogs are saying he’s cut seventy-five percent of his staff,” Lauren said, her eyes scanning the lines again. “That’s him trying to stop the bleeding. Cost-cutting, layoffs… he’s burning down his own infrastructure just to keep the doors open a little longer.”

“That fits,” I replied, trying to keep my voice steady, but a chill ran down my spine nonetheless. Financial power is fragile; the market doesn’t deal in feelings, only numbers. Once trust disappears, everything else becomes just cold math.

My hand hovered over the edge of the desk, fingers tapping out a rhythm I didn’t want to hear. Earlier, there had been a small, private thrill watching Ethan squirm at the auction—winning only because of what Lauren had done. But now, that thrill had soured into a stark realization of risk. Truth was a double-edged sword. If it was a weapon for us, it was also a mirror reflecting our own vulnerabilities.

Only Lauren could have caused this kind of damage, I thought. She had patience and a ledger of grievances that mapped out every slight and loss. She hadn’t used it before—not when it might have hurt her past—but Ethan had crossed a line she’d long ignored. He’d forced her hand.

“To be honest,” she murmured, placing the tablet back in the center of the desk, “with all this going on, I don’t think he’ll have the time or energy to come after me again. Serves him right.”

A quiet, burning anger stirred inside me. “If the leak’s coming from my office,” I said slowly, “and if the manager is the only other person with that level of access…” I cut myself off. Threats often sounded like promises, and I wanted to be clear, not threatening. “If she’s the one, she’s fired. And we’ll press charges. Selling corporate secrets is a crime.”

Lauren’s eyes flicked up, and I saw a mixture of relief and dread there. She wasn’t hoping for bloodshed—she was preparing for consequences. We had used information to wound a man who once thought himself untouchable. Now, we had to make sure it didn’t leave us exposed.

Without hesitation, I reached for the phone. The manager needed to be here immediately. I wouldn’t wait for rumors to spread or panic to set in. We had to act quickly, not out of fear but with precision.

I dialed the manager’s office number. It rang twice before someone answered. I ignored the greeting.

“My office. Now,” I said, my voice sharp and unyielding.

There was a brief pause on the line, a startled intake of breath—as if the person on the other end suddenly understood the seriousness in my tone. I didn’t need to say more. When the stakes are this high, a single sentence carries a thousand meanings.