NO SECOND CHANCE, MY EX-HUSBAND

"Clara! You’re not allowed to be happy without me by your side!" Sean clenched his fists.

"You must always be mine. Even if you’re happy, you must be happy by my side. I don’t want us to part ways like this."

Sean was starting to feel like he was going crazy, longing for Clara to return to his arms.

He began neglecting some important aspects of his daily routine. All his work was falling by the wayside. His relationships with some of his business associates were starting to fray.

Sean was losing control of his business affairs because of his personal issues.

He missed Clara. He begged a second chance.

★★★

That night ..., Sean didn’t return home in a rage. He came home with a calm expression. Too calm.

That minor defeat at the door of Clara’s apartment didn’t shatter him—it actually brought out his worst side. The side that never shouted, never made direct threats, but always won because it knew exactly where to strike.

The next morning, the conference room on the thirtieth floor was filled with screens.

Leo’s name appeared there. His company. His subsidiaries. Ongoing projects.

Sean stood in front of the screens, both hands in his suit pockets.

"Leo thinks he can protect Clara with just his money and influence," he said flatly.

"In that case, let’s speak the same language."

He gave a small gesture.

"Cut off funding for their energy projects in Southeast Asia. Use the reputational risk clause."

"Won’t that trigger an open conflict?" asked one of the directors.

Sean turned slowly. His gaze was cold.

"No," he replied. "This is a warning for Leo. The conflict only begins if he retaliates."

One by one, the orders were carried out.

Investors suddenly pulling out. Banks abruptly "reviewing" their partnerships. Vendors hesitating to sign renewal contracts.

Not a single one could be directly traced back to Sean. It all looked like mere business coincidences.

---

Two days later, Leo felt the impact. He stood in his office, staring at the reports that were growing thicker and worse.

"This isn’t market fluctuation," he muttered.

"This is an attack."

His assistant nodded slowly. "Our two main investors have received approaches from a Weasley Group affiliate. Not directly, but... the pattern is clear."

Leo smiled faintly. Not a fearful smile, but the smile of someone who had finally confirmed his suspicions.

"He’s starting to play dirty," he said.

Leo closed the folder, then picked up his phone. Not to call Sean. But to call his legal team.

"Audit all contracts," he ordered.

"And tighten information security. If Sean wants a war, I won’t be a silent victim."

---

Meanwhile, Sean received the report with a satisfied expression.

"Their revenue dropped seven percent in forty-eight hours," his assistant reported.

"Good," Sean replied casually. "Enough to make Leo anxious. Not enough to kill him."

He stood up and walked to the window.

"Make sure this news reaches Clara," he continued. "No threats. No message. Let her figure it out on her own."

His assistant looked hesitant. "What if Mrs. Clara ends up distancing herself from you even more, sir?" Horison paused.

Sean smiled slightly.

"She won’t," he said softly.

"A woman like Clara always feels responsible for the people around her. Leo will be her weakness."

He sipped his now-cold coffee.

"And if Clara comes back to talk to me because of this..." Sean paused for a moment. "It means my chance isn’t completely gone."

*********

Moana was in a pitiful state. It seemed as though the universe was against her. She had been rejected by her parents, her husband, and even Clara refused to help her.

"Damn it! Why is my life so miserable?!"

She sat in the tiny room of the cheap apartment she rented under a false identity. The TV was on without sound, showing Sean’s face—neat, authoritative, as if his life had never been shattered.

Moana stared at the screen for a long time.

"I love you, Sean. I love your money," she muttered. "And you threw me away like a used tissue. Bastard!"

She laughed softly. A laugh devoid of any joy.

All this time, Moana had always moved in a hurry. She seized. She pressured. She openly challenged Clara. She thought victory would come from courage and recklessness.

It didn’t.

Sean didn’t lose because of his emotions. Sean lost because he was in a hurry.

And Moana finally understood: if she wanted to bring Sean down, she couldn’t stand in front of him. She had to get into the same mud.

---

Roberto Alvarez’s name appeared on her phone screen.

Sean’s longtime rival.

A businessman and underworld figure who had always evaded the law, yet never stopped trying to bring down the Weasley Group.

Moana smiled faintly.

She didn’t come as a threat.

She came as a broken woman.

The meeting took place at a private villa, far from the city center. No reporters. No official cameras. Just men who were used to buying everything—including people.

Roberto looked at Moana without haste.

"So you’re that abandoned wife?"

Moana didn’t deny it. She sat calmly, opened her bag, and placed her phone on the table.

"I didn’t come here to be pitied," she said softly.

"I came bearing something more valuable than stocks."

Roberto raised an eyebrow. "What?"

"Sean’s habits. His fears. The way he sabotages people’s businesses without leaving a trace."

The room fell silent for a moment.

One of the other men chuckled. His gaze roamed Moana’s body without shame.

"And what price are you asking for?"

Moana knew the question wasn’t about money. She swallowed hard.

Then she smiled—the same smile she’d used when she’d taken Sean away from Clara.

"I’m not asking for a price," she said.

"I’m offering myself as collateral. I can have sex with all of you. As long as you’re willing to cooperate with me. Take down Sean!"

"Are you sure?"

"Yes!"

There was no written contract. No promise of protection.

And that night, Moana stopped pretending to have dignity. She let herself be treated as an object of lust, because for the first time, she chose her own destruction by selling herself.

And that choice gave her something she’d never had before: Direction.

********

The next morning, Moana stood in front of the bathroom mirror in the villa. Her eyes were sunken. Her lips were pale. But there was something new in her expression.

Resolve.

"I’ve fallen too deep," she said to her own reflection.

"I might as well make sure Sean goes down with me."

She picked up her phone. There was a message from an unknown number.

"We start next week. Sean Weasley won’t know where the blow came from."

Moana deleted the message.

Then she sat on the edge of the bed, wrapping herself in a blanket.

Clara might never forgive her. And Moana knew—she didn’t deserve forgiveness.

But one thing was certain: Sean Weasley no longer held the reins of her life.

And that alone was enough to make Moana smile—for the first time since she’d been cast out.

"Sean, did you think I’d just sit back and do nothing?"

******

Alright. I’ll continue the next scene while maintaining the same tone: cold, dark, without glorification, and emphasizing that Moana is increasingly losing her humanity—not as erotica, but as a conscious moral collapse.

---

★★★

Moana didn’t return to that shabby apartment.

She moved into a small unit provided by Roberto’s people. Clean. Quiet. Too sterile to be called a home. No photos. No large mirrors. No personal belongings. As if the place had been prepared for someone who didn’t need to remember who they once were.

Her days were now filled with brief encounters. Encounters on the bed, of course. Sexual relations, in accordance with the price she’d offered Roberto, that cunning mafia man.

Moana doesn’t always have sex with Roberto. She does it more often with people who don’t need to know her name.

From all of this, Moana learned one important thing: power doesn’t always come from the loudest voice, but from information kept hidden for too long and then released at the right moment.

She began to speak like them. To think like them. To measure people like numbers.

Roberto once asked her, with a light laugh, "If Sean falls apart later, where will you go?"

"I’ll sell myself to the elite so I can have a pleasant life. You can count on me."

★★★

On the other side of town, Sean began to sense something was off. It wasn’t a major blow, nor an open attack. It was just a small oddity.

An old partner suddenly postponing a meeting. A data leak too neat to be a coincidence. An old issue that should have died—resurfacing, repackaged, more dangerous.

"Which dog dares to disturb my sleep?!" Sean sneered.

He sat in his office, tapping the desk with his fingers.

"This isn’t Leo’s style," he muttered. "Leo attacks openly. Legally, and systematically. But this... it’s too quiet and gray."

Now, it was as if someone who knew him very well was moving pieces from within the board.

"Is there someone else helping Clara?" He narrowed his eyes.