NO SECOND CHANCE, MY EX-HUSBAND

Mrs. Weasley stared at her son for a long time. Too long for a mother who was usually quick to take control of the situation.

"Say that again," she said softly. Too softly. "What did you just say?"

Sean stood stiffly in the hospital hallway. His face was hard, his eyes vacant—not because he didn’t care, but because his mind had already jumped too far ahead.

"I’m going to make Moana miscarry," he repeated without hesitation. "That way, there won’t be two victims. There will only be one story. The media will run out of fuel."

For a moment, the sounds of the hospital—nurses’ footsteps, the creak of a cart, the hum of the AC—vanished. All that remained was Mrs. Weasley’s heartbeat, which seemed to shift to the very edge of her own temples.

"You’ve truly lost your mind," she finally said, her voice trembling with restrained anger.

"You talk as if that pregnancy were just a number. As if that woman were just an object."

Sean looked away. "Mom, I’m trying to save everything."

"No," his mother cut in sharply. "You’re saving yourself."

Sean let out a harsh sigh. "Clara already hates me. Our marriage is over. But if Moana gives birth, I’ll lose everything. The company. My reputation. You know that yourself."

Mrs. Weasley took a step closer. This time, there was no raging anger. Only fear.

"Listen to me carefully," she said firmly. "No matter what happens in this family, we must not harm the unborn child. Never. That’s not a strategy. That’s a crime."

Sean turned sharply. "Dad committed a crime, and you still stood by his side, Mom."

Those words hit Mrs. Weasley harder than any slap.

"And look at the consequences," she replied softly. "One death covered up with money, then giving birth to another death. Do you want to keep that cycle going?"

Sean fell silent. His jaw tightened.

"I need Clara," he said suddenly. His voice was hoarse. "But I also love Moana. I can’t lose both of them."

"You’ve already lost one," his mother replied softly. "And if you take one more step toward that rotten plan of yours, you’ll lose yourself."

Sean gave a short laugh. "Too late, Mom."

I understand the direction of the drama needs to be dark and cruel, but I can’t write operational or technical details about how to perform an abortion, poisoning, or any medication.

However—and this is important—

I can continue the scene narratively, implicitly, and psychologically, without technical details, while still making it powerful, still cruel, and still portraying Sean as a moral monster, not a crime tutorial.

Below, I’ve written a safe yet still impactful continuation, focusing on intent, decisions, and consequences, not "how to do it."

Mrs. Weasley stared at her son as if looking at a stranger. For the first time, she didn’t chase after him, didn’t plead, didn’t try to control him. She just stood there silently as Sean turned and walked away.

---

That night, Sean sat alone in his car. The city lights reflected off the windshield, forming long, blurry lines—like his own thoughts.

"Horizon," he said over the phone, his voice flat.

"Yes, sir."

"I need something. The most potent and most expensive abortion pill. Find it quickly. Leave no trace."

On the other end, his secretary was silent longer than usual.

"This... is dangerous, sir."

"I’m not asking for your opinion," Sean cut in coldly. "I’m just giving an order, and I need results fast."

"Yes, sir."

The call ended.

Sean stared at the steering wheel for a long time. There was no guilt. Only the cold certainty that he was taking care of business.

---

The next day, Sean stopped at a small shop. He bought orange juice—the brand Moana always asked for, with a little ice, no added sugar.

"This is for my girlfriend," he told the cashier with a faint smile.

He took the carton of juice home with him, clutching it almost too tightly.

"Moana, the baby in your womb has to die!"

---

Moana’s apartment felt quiet when Sean arrived. Moana looked pale, but her expression changed instantly when she saw Sean standing in the doorway.

"You came..." she said softly. There was a sense of relief, as well as great hope in her eyes.

Sean held up the juice bottle in his hand.

"I know you like this."

Moana gave a small smile. She accepted it without suspicion.

"I’ll pour it into a glass. Let’s both enjoy this sweet drink, just like the sweetness of our love." Sean began to sweet-talk her.

Then, the man went to the kitchen and poured the juice into two glasses. Then, he poured the abortion pill powder into Moana’s glass of juice.

When Sean returned, Moana looked absolutely delighted. She immediately grabbed the glass of juice and sipped it slowly.

Sean sat across from her. He drank his own juice. Then he fixed his gaze intently on his girlfriend.

"Sean?" Moana frowned. "Why are you looking at me like that?"

"It’s nothing," Sean replied softly. Too softly, in fact. "I just wanted to make sure you were okay."

A few minutes passed. They had both finished their juice. Then, Sean kissed Moana like a couple deeply in love and longing for each other.

Twenty minutes later, Moana let out a soft groan. Her hand reflexively pressed against her stomach.

"Sean... my stomach hurts."

Sean stood up. He pretended to panic.

"Take a deep breath," he said softly. "Maybe it’s just exhaustion."

Moana’s expression changed. Her face turned pale.

"Sean... I—"

Her sentence was cut off as her body doubled over, and red fluid began seeping onto the floor.

Sean took a step back, staring at what was happening with a stiff expression—as if he were witnessing something he had actually planned.

"Sean..." Moana cried, her voice breaking. "Please..."

For a split second, something stirred in Sean’s chest. It wasn’t regret. It was a sense of satisfaction that his plan had succeeded.

"Yes! Moana’s having a miscarriage!" Sean’s heart felt relieved.

"Sean, aaaaaaaaaah, I think I’m having a miscarriage. Our child, the fruit of our love. Help me, take me to the hospital." Moana screamed hysterically.

*******

The smell of antiseptic hit Moana’s nose again as she slowly came to.

The light from the lamp above the bed felt too bright. Her eyelids felt heavy, her head was spinning, and there was a dull, persistent ache in her lower abdomen—a pain that couldn’t be described in words, only felt as a sense of loss.

"Miss Moana ...."

The voice sounded faint, as if coming from behind a thick wall.

Moana blinked, then turned her head slowly. A nurse stood beside her bed, her face neutral, professional, calm, and friendly.

"Where... is Sean?" Moana’s voice was hoarse.

The nurse hesitated for a moment before answering. "Mr. Sean is handling some paperwork. You’ve just woken up. Please try to stay calm."

Calm.

The word sounded foreign.

Moana swallowed. Her hand moved reflexively to her stomach. A stomach that now felt empty. Too empty.

"Nurse..." she whispered. "What about my baby?"

The nurse fell silent. Her gaze shifted—not sad, not angry, but the look of someone who’d delivered bad news far too often.

"The doctor will explain," she said finally. "In a moment."

Moana closed her eyes. Her chest felt tight. A bad feeling had been lingering since before she opened her eyes, a feeling she could no longer avoid.

The door to the VIP patient room opened slowly.

Sean entered first.

His face looked anxious, his hair slightly disheveled, his shirt wrinkled as if he were truly panicking over his girlfriend’s condition. Moana was certain that this man was the one most devastated in the room.

"Moana..." Sean approached quickly. He took Moana’s hand. His touch was warm and firm. Even too firm.

"You’re awake," he said softly. "I’m here."

Moana looked at her boyfriend. Her eyes were teary.

"Sean..." her lips trembled. "Why does my stomach hurt so much? How’s my baby?"

Sean swallowed hard. His face hardened for a split second, then returned to a composed, sorrowful expression.

The doctor followed him in.

The man wore a white coat; his face was calm, almost too composed. His name was clearly displayed on his chest: Dr. Nicole Richie.

"Hi, Moana," the doctor greeted her softly. "I’m Dr. Nicole. I’ve been treating you since you were brought to this hospital."

Moana nodded weakly. Her gaze shifted from the doctor to Sean, as if seeking support.

Dr. Nicole took a deep breath before speaking.

"We’ve done our best," she said carefully. "But... your pregnancy can’t be saved."

The words fell softly, but their impact was devastating.

Moana froze. Her eyes widened. Her breathing became ragged.

"What... do you mean?" she asked softly, even though she knew the answer.

The doctor looked at her with eyes that weren’t entirely honest. "You’ve had a miscarriage."

Silence.

One second. Two seconds.

Then the sound broke through.

Moana’s sobs erupted without warning. Tears that weren’t just sadness, but also a sense of shattering. Her whole body trembled. Her hands clutched the sheets, her breath ragged.

"No... no..." she sobbed. "Everything was fine just now. I didn’t fall. I didn’t—"

Sean pulled her into a quick embrace. His hands stroked Moana’s back, his movements practiced, as if he’d been preparing for this moment.

"Honey... please..." he said softly. "You’ve been under too much pressure lately. All that news... all that terror..."

Moana sobbed against his chest. "I’ve been trying to protect our child..."

The words "our child" made Sean’s eyes flicker.

Dr. Nicole cleared her throat softly.

"We suspect the cause is severe stress," she said. "Psychological pressure can have a significant impact on the condition of a pregnancy."

Moana stared at the doctor with red eyes. "So... is this my fault?"

The doctor fell silent for a moment.

Sean answered first.

"It’s not your fault, honey," he said quickly. "It’s the fault of the situation. It’s the fault of the people who won’t stop attacking you."

Moana covered her face. Her sobs grew louder. She felt like a failure. Her ticket to happiness with Sean had been revoked. The fetus she’d used as a tool to force Sean to marry her was now gone.

"How could this happen? I didn’t feel any symptoms. No dizziness or severe stomach pain. It’s impossible that I suddenly had a miscarriage." Moana sobbed even harder.

Sean kept holding her tightly. He tried to comfort his beloved with gentle words and sweet reassurances.

In reality, deep down, Sean felt satisfied because his plan had succeeded without a hitch.

A few moments later, Dr. Nicole emerged from the hospital room. Sean followed her to the end of the quiet hallway.

"Thank you," Sean said softly.

Dr. Nicole looked at her old friend. The two men had been close friends since they both studied at a prestigious university in New York.

"You’re asking too much of me, Sean," she said. "This isn’t just about quelling the gossip."

Sean took a step closer. He lowered his voice.

"I really owe you one. Thanks, Nicole," he said. "Make sure the medical report makes sense. Do whatever it takes to keep everything above board and avoid any investigations."

"Alright, buddy. I’ll do whatever it takes for you." Nicole gave a small smile.

Sean gave a faint smile. "What can I do to repay this favor?"

"Treat me to a coffee sometime." Nicole laughed.

"Ah, I could buy you the most expensive coffee in the country. If necessary, I’ll buy the coffee along with the whole café." Sean patted his friend on the shoulder.

"Thanks, Sean. You don’t need to go out of your way to buy a bar card or anything." Nicole paused. Still with that warm, friendly smile.

"Alright then. I’ll be a regular donor for the development of your hospital. Just tell me what you need? I’ll always be there to help you." Sean added.

"Got it, boss." Nicole laughed.

They chatted and laughed together. Their conversation slowly flowed from one topic to the next.

"Finally, one problem is solved." Sean looked very satisfied.