No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 203

**TITLE: He Chased 203**

**ELIZABETH’S POV**

I blinked rapidly, my eyelids fluttering as I tried to make sense of the image flickering on the television screen. I squinted, half-hoping that the picture would morph into something else, something less unsettling. When it stubbornly remained unchanged, I rubbed my eyes vigorously, pressing my palms against them as if I could will away the sight that had captured my attention. But there it was—my face, unmistakably clear, staring back at me.

For a heartbeat, I stood frozen in place, the world around me fading into a blur. The voice of the news reporter droned on, her words becoming mere background noise, a distant echo that I could scarcely register. All I could focus on was that haunting image—my own reflection, yet somehow, not quite me.

How was this even possible?

I had never sought the limelight, never indulged in extravagant parties or high-profile business gatherings. Despite being the daughter of wealthy millionaires, I had always preferred to remain in the shadows, the “invisible” daughter. I relished the quietude of my life, where my name was known only to those who truly needed to know it. No cameras, no interviews, no scandalous headlines—just a simple, uncomplicated existence.

So, why in the world was my face plastered on national news, paired with the name Ethan Black, a name I had only just heard moments before?

I leaned closer to the screen, my brows knitting together in confusion. My gaze fell on the name displayed beneath the image—Lauren Darrow.

Lauren Darrow?

Panic surged through me, deepening my confusion. That was not my name. Not even close.

“This has to be a mistake,” I murmured to myself, reaching for the remote control. My hand froze mid-motion, hovering in the air. I couldn’t change the channel—not yet. I needed to uncover the truth.

I focused intently on the screen, scrutinizing every detail. The woman depicted had long, flowing dark brown hair cascading past her shoulders. My fingers instinctively brushed against my own hair, cropped short in a neat bob, a style I had maintained since I was fourteen. I had never allowed it to grow past my shoulders, not even for a single day.

A tightness gripped my chest.

How could they have an image of me with long hair?

No. This was all wrong. Everything felt off-kilter.

With trembling hands, I grabbed my phone from the nightstand and opened the browser, typing my full name: Elizabeth Brenson.

The search results appeared almost instantaneously, but as I anticipated, there was nothing. No pictures, no recent mentions, no tags. My online presence was virtually nonexistent, a status I had deliberately cultivated over the years.

So why was my face appearing on television, linked to another woman’s name and story?

I turned my gaze back to the TV, my heart racing in my chest.

I stood there in silence, my mind a whirlwind of possibilities. Perhaps it was some sort of glitch, a bizarre technological error where my face had been superimposed onto this woman’s image for reasons I couldn’t fathom.

But the news? They wouldn’t make such a glaring mistake, would they?

Without wasting another moment, I delved deeper into the search results.

The outcome hit me like a ton of bricks.

Her name was everywhere.

News articles, interviews, photographs—all over the internet. Every link I clicked on showcased her face, and as I scrolled, I felt my breath hitch in my throat.

“Hey, girl! Have you settled into that fancy hotel of yours?” she chirped, her voice bright with cheer.

I didn’t allow her to finish. “Listen, I need you to do something for me. Right now.”

Confusion laced her tone. “Okay… what’s wrong?”

“Search the name Lauren Darrow. Right now. I need you to tell me what you find.” My voice came out sharper than I intended, but the urgency of the moment demanded it.

There was a pause on the line as she typed, and the silence made my chest tighten further.

“Uh, okay, just a second,” she replied. Then, after a brief silence, she exclaimed, “Wait. What? Elizabeth… why are you on the internet as ‘Lauren Darrow’? And since when did you grow your hair that long?”

I halted my pacing, my body going rigid.

My knees nearly buckled beneath me as I collapsed onto the edge of the bed, one hand tangled in my hair. “That’s not me,” I said quietly. “You know me better than anyone. I’ve never let my hair grow that long. And you know I despise being online. I keep my life private for a reason.”

She fell silent for a moment. “Okay, yeah, that’s true. You’ve always been anti-social media. But if this isn’t you, then how do you explain all these pictures? Are you sure someone isn’t using your photos? Maybe pretending to be you?”

“I thought of that too,” I admitted, my voice trembling slightly. “But this isn’t edited. I just watched a live video. She’s moving. Talking. Laughing. Her face moves exactly like mine does. It’s not Photoshopped; it’s real. She’s real.”

Silence enveloped the call. I could almost hear her breath, filled with confusion and unease, mirroring my own feelings.

“Okay, Liz,” she finally said softly, “that’s… really creepy. But maybe there’s some explanation?”