All Chapters of Her Resolve: Chapter 51 - Chapter 60

Lauren POVNew Zealand mornings were quieter than I was used to.Not empty—just calm. The kind of calm that didn’t demand anything from you the moment you opened your eyes. I liked that about this place. It let me breathe before the world remembered I existed.By nine a.m., I was already dressed and seated at the small dining table, my laptop open, a cup of ginger tea cooling beside it. Kate appeared on my screen right on time, her familiar sharp bob and sharper expression somehow comforting despite the distance.“You look… rested,” she said slowly, eyes narrowing as if suspicious of the fact.“I slept eight hours,” I replied. “Voluntarily.”Kate gasped. “Who are you and what have you done with Lauren Pope?”I laughed, the sound surprising even me. “How’s the brand?”She straightened, all business now, and launched into updates—new suppliers, a delayed shipment, a collaboration opportunity she’d put on hold until I was ready. I listened, chimed in when needed, grateful all over again

Andre POV It’s been a month. Thirty-one days since Lauren left, and the silence she took with her has been louder than any argument we ever had. I tried everything. Private investigators. Quiet calls. Not-so-quiet ones. I leaned on people who owed me favors and people who didn’t but were afraid to say no. Airports. Credit trails. Social media—hers and everyone remotely connected to her. Nothing. It was like she’d erased herself. No one had heard from her. Not friends. Not acquaintances. Not even the people who usually knew everything before it became public knowledge. Lauren didn’t just leave New York—she vanished. And every day since then has felt… wrong. I work. That part hasn’t changed. I bury myself in it from morning till night, meetings blurring together, numbers losing meaning. I sign contracts without reading half of them. I nod at people when I know I should be listening. They don’t notice. Or they pretend not to. At night, I stay in my office. I drink

Lauren pov Ethan doesn’t say much on the drive, and I’m grateful for it. The morning air is cool, the kind that feels like a promise. His car hums softly beneath us, tires rolling over familiar streets that still feel foreign to me. I keep my hands folded in my lap, my yoga mat resting against my legs like a shield. “You okay?” he asks, eyes still on the road. I nod. “Yeah. Just… nervous.” I don't even know why I'm nervous. The first day wasn't bad at all. “That’s normal. Second day jitters.” He smiles briefly. “You survived the first one.” I did. Even though I felt like my joints were ripping apart. But I don’t say that. The studio comes into view too quickly—glass walls, muted music leaking out every time the door opens. My chest tightens. I still can't figure out why I'm nervous. Ethan parks and turns off the engine, then finally looks at me fully. There’s something careful in his eyes today. Measured. “So,” he starts, clearing his throat, “I’ll be headin

Andre pov. I wake up with my cheek stuck to cold glass and my neck screaming in protest. For a second, I don’t know where I am. Then the ache settles in, familiar and dull, and the office of my new penthouse comes back into focus—the desk, the floor-to-ceiling windows, the contract spread out beneath my forearms. I fell asleep correcting clause twelve. At least I got some sleep for the first time in a million years. I straighten slowly, rubbing my face, then glance at the document. The mistake I caught last night stares back at me—fixed, clean, undeniable. I finish the last edit quickly, attach the file, and send it to my personal assistant with short instructions. ‘Forward to my father. Reassess. Get his signature.’ Done. I brush my teeth, shower, dress, and move through my morning on autopilot. Suit. Watch. Shoes. Cologne. Everything precise. Everything controlled. Instead of driving to the office, I turn the car in the opposite direction. I don’t think about it. Even i

Lauren pov The moment the message comes in, my body reacts before my mind does. My fingers go cold. My chest tightens like someone has pulled an invisible cord straight through my ribs and yanked. I’m staring at the screen, but the words blur, rearrange themselves, refuse to stay still. Andre knows you’ve been in contact with your staff. That’s all it takes. Keisha is still talking, something about the pancakes, about how she should’ve ordered tea instead of coffee—but her voice fades into the background, muffled, distant, like I’m underwater. The restaurant suddenly feels too loud, too bright, too full of people who don’t know my name but somehow feel like they’re watching me. My heart starts to race. I don't know why I'm reacting like this honestly. Maybe it's because I never thought he would hear anything about me which is absurd. It's not like I went to the end of earth or died or something, but that doesn't change how this information made my blood pressure rise.