Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 403 "No." She couldn't bring herself to admit she didn't care whether the wedding took place or not. Instead, Mila flipped through the catalog and, almost absentmindedly, pointed to the most expensive, lavish gown on the page.

"This one will do." "Oh! Of course, absolutely." Lea quickly masked her delight, nodding eagerly. "Then, about the specifics-the flowers, the reception menu-" "We can sort out the details later." Mila cut her off, gesturing to the delicate pastries and coffee arranged on the table. "Won't you have spastries, Ms. Lea?" It had been so long since anyone had spoken to her.

In this old manor, Mila had to play the mute. She couldn't even show her face in front of Cossio. The servants here were just as silent, moving about their work wordlessly, as if they too had no voices.

She cherished this rare social encounter.

Doing her best to prolong the conversation, she chatted a bit more. Only when dusk settled did Mila, with a reluctant smile, finally see Lea to the door.

Once again, the manor fell silent.

After dinner with Cossio, Mila returned to her room. She removed the veil with a sigh of relief, then leaned against the window, gazing out toward the distant coastline.

Out at sea, several ships were nearing the shore.

Bored, she began to count them-one, two, three-watching as they drew closer. Then she tipped her head up to admire the stars glittering across the night sky.

Almost there.

Just a little longer. Soon, she'd finally be free of this place.

Night descended on the island.

Under the starlit sky, several ships glided toward the harbor. The once-quiet waterfront burst to life, crowds spilling onto the docks, laughter and voices rising into the night.

No one noticed a group of about thirty slipping off one ship at the edge of the harbor. They followed a man in a long black coat, hat pulled low over his eyes, blending seamlessly into the throng.

Soon after, A lively bar-one of the island's busiest nightspots-welcomed the group. As they entered, they fanned out, each taking up a vantage point with a clear view of the room. Only the man in the black coat continued forward, weaving through the wild, dancing crowd until he reached the bar.

"Two Negronis," he said.

He took the pair of ruby-red cocktails and slid one toward the only other patron hunched over the counter-a red- haired man who looked thoroughly drunk.

"Wake up." The redhead stirred, lifting his head just enough to reveal a pair of dazed, aquamarine eyes-eyes as clear and striking as gemstones.

Still slumped on the bar, he didn't hesitate to down the drink that had been pushed his way. His blue eyes grew even cloudier as he grinned, reaching for the second glass. But the man in the coat pulled it away, tipping up his hat just enough to reveal a set of cold, fox-like eyes.

"Francis, is this how you handle things?" "So heartless," the redhead mumbled.

Francis-his name-pouted, squinting at the man before him. "Lysander, after all these years, that's how you greet an old friend? Can't even sparea drink? You're stingy, man-so stingy." "If you don't sober up, I'll set fire to your wine cellar," Lysander replied flatly, clearly out of patience.

"You cruel bastard." Still grumbling, Francis fished a crumpled invitation from his pocket and tossed it across the counter. "Take a look. Old Cosmeans business this time. Your beloved wife is about to marry the old monster, hahahaha- serves you right! Always hiding her away like sprecious treasure... stingy!" On the invitation, The groom's name-Cossio-was printed in bold. Oddly, the bride's nwas left blank. Lysander knew exactly why.

That old bastard hadn't given up on his mother, and now he had his sights set on Lysander's wife.

Not a chance.

Just thinking about it made Lysander's blood boil. And with Francis still muttering and whining beside him, he finally lost his patience and slugged his friend right in the head.

"Ugh-" Francis clutched his head and crouched by the bar, wailing. "Lysander, you maniac! That hurt! Are you trying to kill me?!" "Still not sober?" Lysander flexed his fist, the knuckles cracking.

"All right, all right—I'm wide awake!" Lysander's expression softened a little. "So, how are your preparations coming along?"

Francis groaned, but managed a lopsided grin. "Relax, relax. Making ex, life difficult for that old monster is my specialty. I'm all in-I promise, you'll be one hundred percent satisfied."

The Francis and Cosfamilies had once been powerful houses, with a history stretching back centuries. Though they'd faded from glory in recent times, they still wielded considerable influence, especially abroad. For as long as anyone could remember, the two families had been bitter rivals. Bloody feuds were practically a tradition.

Knowing Lysander was here to stir up trouble for Cossio, Francis was happy to join in.

He'd never liked that old monster anyway.

Cossio-well into his forties-still looked like he'd drunk from the fountain of youth, that unnaturally handsface of his attracting lovers wherever he went. It didn't matter that the families were sworn enemies. Francis would be damned if he missed the chance to ruin the old monster's big day. If he didn't, his ancestors would disown him.

"Don't worry!" Francis thumped his chest, brimming with confidence.

Lysander took a deep breath. "If you screw this up for me, you're finished."