No Second Chances Ex-husband (Lauren and Ethan) novel Chapter 227

**CHAPTER 0227**

**ELIZABETH’S POV**

As I stepped out of the sleek car that Lauren had arranged for me, the evening air enveloped me like a warm embrace. It was a gentle caress, stirring something deep within me, and I paused for a moment to let my senses absorb the enchanting ambiance that surrounded me. The world seemed to shimmer in the fading light, and I took a deep, steady breath, allowing my eyes to wander over the stunning vista before me.

The villa was nothing short of magnificent. The images I had seen online and the articles I had read did not do it justice; they fell woefully short of capturing its grandeur. Standing there, gazing at the architectural marvel, felt akin to stepping into a luxurious advertisement that had sprung to life right before my eyes.

For a brief moment, I stood transfixed, my fingers lightly gripping my purse, soaking in every detail of the scene. The villa alone was an intoxicating source of inspiration, fueling my determination to deliver an unforgettable performance that evening.

Once I collected my thoughts, I made my way toward the grand entrance. The sound of my heels clicking against the stones echoed in the air, each step resonating with just the right amount of authority—not too loud to be brash, yet not too soft to be overlooked. It was a rhythm that made me feel empowered as I approached the door. With a deliberate motion, I lifted my hand and knocked gently, the anticipation swirling within me.

Moments later, the door swung open.

A woman stood there, clad in a maid’s uniform, her demeanor calm and her smile practiced.

“Good day, ma’am. Please come in,” she said with a slight bow, her voice smooth and welcoming.

I offered her a brief nod in acknowledgment, my focus already shifting past her as I stepped inside. Holding my head high and my shoulders back, I moved forward with the confidence of someone who envisioned herself as the future mistress of this exquisite home. Perhaps not today, perhaps not tomorrow… but soon enough, if all went according to my carefully laid plans, I would be the one commanding the respect of every maid in this house.

The interior of the villa was just as breathtaking as the exterior. The air was infused with the delicate scent of fresh lilies mingling with the subtle aroma of expensive candles. Every inch of the space gleamed with meticulous care, arranged in a manner that exuded sophistication and elegance.

As I glanced around, I noticed the walls adorned with genuine paintings—works of art that held real value, not the cheap imitations often found in overpriced hotel lobbies. I paused for a heartbeat, my gaze lingering on one particular piece. The intricate detailing, the masterful brushstrokes, the vibrant colors—it was the kind of artwork that collectors would battle fiercely to own.

I admired them not just for their beauty, but for the wealth they represented. Expensive things whispered secrets of power and influence, and I was eager to be part of that world.

“Good evening, Elizabeth. Glad you could make it,” a voice interrupted my thoughts, drawing my attention toward the dining area. There stood Roman.

A broad smile broke across my face, genuine and effortless, the kind that accentuated my cheekbones and showcased my pearly whites—the very smile that often drew compliments from others.

“Hey you, good evening,” I replied, stepping closer to him, my excitement palpable. “This is… quite something you have here.”

“Thanks,” he said, his eyes briefly scanning the room before settling back on me. “It reflects my hard work over the years.”

“I can see that,” I replied, my gaze drifting back to the paintings. “And I couldn’t help but notice the artwork. These pieces are quite rare, you know.”

“Yeah,” he nodded slightly, a hint of pride in his tone. “I acquired most of these through auctions. They’re very dear to me.”

I tilted my head, studying him intently. At this point, most men would be captivated by my dress, stumbling over their words or at least offering a single compliment. But Roman… he remained unfazed.

He didn’t comment on my appearance, didn’t express any admiration for my outfit, and offered no hint of attraction. Was this his usual demeanor around women, or was he deliberately holding back?

No, I refused to accept that he wasn’t drawn to me. He had to be. Perhaps he was simply playing hard to get. If that was the case, it only added to the thrill of the chase.

My attention shifted back to the dinner table, which was set with an elegance that seemed excessive for a mere dinner. The candles were arranged with precision, and the plates were positioned flawlessly, creating an atmosphere that suggested this gathering was about more than just a casual meal. My curiosity piqued; something was definitely afoot.

“Please, you can have your seat here,” Roman gestured toward the plush couch in the living room. “Lauren is still getting ready upstairs.”

I glided over and settled onto the couch, ensuring my movements were slow and deliberate. I crossed my legs in a way that allowed my dress to inch up slightly, offering him an enticing glimpse.

Before I could pose another question, footsteps echoed from the staircase, causing both of us to turn our heads in unison.

It was Lauren.

She descended the stairs in a long, fitted bodycon dress, exuding elegance with each step, as if she were the star of a fairy tale. The dress was lovely and undoubtedly expensive, though it lacked the boldness and allure of my own attire. Mine demanded attention; hers requested it with grace.

But then, something else caught my eye—a small figure racing down the stairs.

A little girl.

She was the spitting image of the child I had seen in the photos online, the daughter Lauren had with someone else. I recognized her immediately as she dashed toward Roman, nearly leaping the last step.

Roman stood up just in time to catch her, lifting her effortlessly.

“You know mummy said no running in the house,” he admonished gently, his tone soft yet authoritative, reminiscent of a caring father.

Before I could fully process the warmth in his voice, the little girl piped up.

“Sorry, Dad.”

The word struck me like a blow to the chest.

Dad?