Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 401 "How's today's work?" Mila lifted her veil.

Lounging in the soft chair, the woman was all but swathed in gold silk-her figure bathed in sunlight, shrouded in an aura of sanctity and mystery. No one could make out her features, but Mila saw right through her. It was the sas always: Felicity, all false affection and empty warmth.

If her love was real, then why was she suffering? Mila scraped a bit of black and red paint onto her palette, blending them until she'd created a deep, haunting crimson. Dipping her brush, she painted a lifelike black-red rose right onto the woman's golden veil. Suddenly, the entire image- once so pure was tinged with something eerie.

A man's low chuckle broke the silence.

"I knew you'd like those roses," he said, sounding genuinely pleased. "I had the lab working for ages to cultivate the perfect black-red rose, just for you. I thought they'd make the perfect flowers for our wedding-what do you say?" 66 A wedding? He was seriously still going on about that? Mila was speechless. She wanted to slap him, but... well, she didn't dare. If she woke him from this delusion, she'd be the one to suffer.

Please let him just be talking nonsense-he couldn't possibly be in his right mind. "My darling," He took her hand, pressing a gentle kiss onto her knuckles through the golden veil. "You still owea wedding. I've been waiting for so long." Mila gritted her teeth.

Could he stop bringing that up? What did any of this have to do with her, anyway? Total disaster.

After that, Mila had zero appetite for the rest of the picnic. She trudged back to the old manor, barely touched her dinner, and spent the whole night tossing and turning, unable to sleep.

All night, she kept repeating to herself: Let this just be a passing whim. Please, don't let him actually go through with it.

The next day, her hopes were dashed.

Mila stood there, face blank, arms outstretched as the seamstress took her measurements. Apparently, they were making her a wedding dress.

She was on the verge of losing it.

Why was this happening? Could this lunatic cto his senses for once? She wasn't the one he wanted- couldn't he use his brain? She was going to lose her mind.

But here, in this manor, she had less say than anyone else. Refusing was out of the question.

From that day on, Cossuddenly got busy. He was hardly ever around.

Normally, that would've been a blessing. But with the wedding looming, Mila could find no relief.

She was doomed.

After two more sleepless nights, Mila finally snapped. She decided she had to talk to Cossio-this marriage nonsense had to stop. No matter the reason, she could not agree to this. Absolutely not.

She ate a decent dinner, then waited in her room until it got late. After rehearsing what she'd say a dozen times, she draped her veil over her face, crossed the hallway, and made her way to the master bedroom upstairs. She knocked on the door.

No answer.

She knocked again, and again-still nothing.

Maybe he was in the studio. She made her way there and rapped lightly on that door instead. Still no response, but this tthe door was ajar, just a sliver of darkness inside. He had to be in there, either lost in his art or just ignoring her.

Hesitating only a moment, Mila pushed the door open, lifting her veil just enough to see inside.

And froze, eyes widening in shock.

What was she looking at? In the studio, Paintings lay scattered, most draped in white cloths-except now, the cloths had been pulled off, lying in heaps on the floor, exposing what lay beneath.

She saw one painting in particular: A naked woman, beautiful and fragile, her pale skin bound tight with countless red threads. A man's ghostly white hand gripped her slender, entangled neck, pulling her close, kissing her even as tears streamed from the corners of her eyes.

There were more like it.

Swere even more lurid, sfeaturing only women, others showing men and women twisted together in every possible way-scenes of chaos and excess.

The man's face was only visible in profile, but it was unmistakably Cossio.

And the woman? Every single face was Felicity's. Clear as day.

Mila stood rooted to the spot.

She didn't snap out of it until she heard a faint sound from the master bedroom next door. Panicking, she stumbled backward and fled.

She was genuinely rattled.

She'd completely forgotten why she'd come.

Back in her room, Mila opened a window and let the sea breeze wash over her, one hand pressed to her N Kone chest, trying to calm her racing heart.

The shock lingered. She'd always suspected- That Cosand Felicity had been lovers, or at least entangled in sdoomed romance. But she'd never imagined this.

He'd gone this far? Judging by the pain and resistance on the women's faces in those paintings by the ve m tears it was hard to believe any of it had been consensual. Yet Coshad painted it all... The man was a monster. Mila felt sick, and more than a little regretful. She smacked herself on the forehead a few times, trying to clear her head.

She wished she'd never tried to talk to Cossio.

She hadn't managed to say a word, and instead, she'd stumbled across something she could never om el up-see-intimate scenes between people she'd thought of as authority figures, even if they were only paintings. It was still hard to process. up-see-intimated And soon, she was supposed to marry this lunatic.

God help her.

Mila buried her face in her hands, crouching on the floor. What was she supposed to do now? She'd barely begun to despair when suddenly-wait. A wedding meant guests, didn't it? And maybe not here, in the manor.

Given how much Coscared about this wedding, there was no way he'd keep it quiet. He'd want the world to know.

If there were crowds of people, and the ceremony was held somewhere public... that would be her chance! She could stir up trouble, create a distraction, and escape while everyone was distracted. It was the best opportunity she was ever likely to get.

If she could just seize that moment-she might actually make it out.