Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 430 At that age, he simply couldn't understand.

Why did his mother hate his little brother so much? How had she changed into someone unrecognizable, the gentle mom he knew suddenly turning terrifying overnight? But he never wanted to make her upset.

That night, Unable to sleep, the boy crept down the hall to his parents' bedroom, hoping to apologize and comfort her. He silently promised himself never to mention his brother in front of her again.

As he passed the study, He overheard his father talking with a doctor.

He hurried on to the bedroom.

No one was on the bed. Water dripped behind the bathroom door. He rushed in- and witnessed the nightmare that would haunt him forever.

Red water spilled over the edge of the tub.

His mother's slender, pale arm hung lifelessly across the porcelain. Dark crimson trickled down, curling across the floor toward his feet, wrapping itself around the boy's frantic, screaming soul, dragging him into darkness. He collapsed beside the tub.

His trembling hands clutched her wrist, tears streaking his face. His chest heaved so hard he could barely breathe, choking out broken words between sobs.

"No, please... don't..." "I'm sorry, I'm sorry, Mom, I'm so sorry, please, open your eyes, look at me, don't, don't... don't die!" "It's my fault, it's all my fault!" "I lied, Mom, I lied. That wasn't my brother, I don't have a brother. His eyes aren't green, not green at all!" "Mom, I lied!" "I'm a liar! A liar!" "That wasn't my brother-it was a monster, a monster!" "I tricked you, please don't die, I'm begging you, it was all a lie, I'll never lie again, never again..." His hysterical screams brought people running.

The house plunged into chaos that night.

Afterwards, His mother returned.

But the terror-the deep, bone-chilling red-never left him. It clung to him, binding him for life.

In the bedroom.

Lysander clung tightly to the woman in his arms, drawing comfort from her warmth. Only after a long while did his ragged breathing and thundering heartbeat finally settle. With Mila by his side, He always found a peace deep enough to soothe his soul.

But now, He was on the verge of losing it.

"Mila, you can't leave me." No matter what, he wouldn't let that happen.

He would do anything-anything-to keep her.

"A party? Tonight?" Barely awake, Mila heard the news and immediately suspected what it meant. "Coswill be there too?" Lysander neither confirmed nor denied it. "Your dress is ready. We'll go together tonight." So, this was it-the final confrontation.

But she didn't understand- If Coswas coming to the party, what need was there for bait? Why was she, the decoy in their plan, even necessary? She couldn't figure it out.

"What if I don't want to go?" Mila asked.

Lysander smiled. "Darling, parties here are quite entertaining." As if one party could be so different from another.

But she knew what he really meant: she had no choice. Like it or not, she was going.

Not that she was really planning on refusing.

She knew she had to go. No matter what, Cosneeded to be dealt with-he was too dangerous, and it was impossible to predict what he'd do next.

That day, They stayed in.

They read and listened to music in the hotel, passing the day quietly until dusk, when Mila changed into the evening gown that had been delivered.

The dress had been custom-made with long sleeves.

It was a deep, starry blue satin, the skirt sweeping down to her ankles. A gold belt, sculpted in the shape of a string of stars, encircled her waist, and gold tassels shimmered from the gown, catching the light with every step. The style was pure clássical Rome-elegant regal, and stunning.

Lysander wore a matching dark blue suit. He knelt to fasten a leather strap with a hidden knife around her wrist, then pulled her long sleeve down t cover it. Suddenly, he chuckled.

"If only that old dress were still here." His words were tinged with regret.

Surprisingly, Mila knew exactly what he meant the dress she'd made with her own hands, then destroyed with those shands.

Why bring it up now? She pressed her lips together, slipped her arm from his grasp, and headed for the door.

The party was held at a Gothic castle on the outskirts of Rome.

For sreason, the drive felt slow-almost endless but finally, the car pulled up in front of the castle's towering, spired silhouette.

A crowd had already gathered.

Lysander got out first, offering his hand to Mila. When she hesitated, he reached for her anyway, intertwining their fingers.

"Stay withtonight," he said softly.

Together, they made their way through the throng and into the grand hall. Mila glanced back at Leonard, who stood by the car, his expression as cold as ice, and hesitated.

"He's not coming in?" At every past event, Leonard had shadowed Lysander. Why not tonight? "He has other things to take care of." Mila didn't press further.

She didn't know the details of the plan, but as she stepped inside the hall, tension seized her. Her breath cshallow and quick.

She scanned the crowd, alert.

The room was full of elegantly dressed men and women, laughing and chatting as if nothing in the world could be wrong.

Where was Cossio? Would he really show up? Her fingers, hidden beneath her long sleeve, brushed against the leather strap at her wrist. It steadied her heart a little. At that moment, Lysander leaned in and whispered, "Don't worry, love." "As long as you're with me, nothing will happen to you." But she couldn't relax.

Ever since learning she was the bait in their scheme, she hadn't known a moment's peace: She feared cossio-and the man standing beside her. Suddenly, music swept through the hall.

Couples paired off, stepping onto the dance floor.

Watching them swirl and glide, Lysander turned and asked, "May have this dance?" It was his second invitation.

But Mila wasn't in the mood. Her attention was fixed ked on the erowan searching, searching for any sign of Cossio. Where was he? The castle's main hall was vast.

And soaringly high.

From anywhere, you could look up and see the tip of the vaulted ceiling, stained- glass windows glowing with the colors of the sunset.

Above, A wide balcony curved around the room.

There, a striking man with golden-brown curls stood, his gloved hands folded over the silver head of a cane. His green eyes, cold and ein distant watched the dancers lingered on the couple at below the edge of the dance floor, The woman scanned the crowd, searching.

The man beside her never looked away from her, his gaze so full of longing it threatened to spill over.