Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 387

Alright, fine.

A prisoner should know their place.

Just like that, Mila fell in line.

Her nightgown was gently slipped off, and she was led—firmly, without any room for argument—toward a steaming bath. The maid fussed over her, scrubbing her clean with painstaking thoroughness. Mila was uncomfortable with the attention but knew better than to resist.

The bath didn’t last long.

Afterward, the maid removed a brocade cloth from a silver tray, revealing an ornate golden gown—something straight out of a European fairy tale. She dressed Mila piece by piece, fastening layers of intricate fabric until Mila began to fidget, uneasy.

“This dress is too small,” she finally blurted, frowning. The bodice pinched her ribs, squeezing her breath thin—it was at least a size too tight.

The maid ignored her, silently slipping golden silk gloves onto Mila’s hands.

Seriously, was everyone here mute?

Aside from the blond man who’d fired at her yesterday, Mila hadn’t heard a single word from anyone. The place was swarming with people, yet the silence was uncanny, almost eerie.

When the gown was finally in place, Mila thought she might be done. But then the maid produced a white veil from the tray and moved to drape it over Mila’s head. Mila tried to stop her, but her hands were pinned—surprisingly strong for a woman; clearly, she’d been trained.

Mila’s curiosity deepened. Who were these people who’d captured her? Every servant in this ancient castle seemed far from ordinary.

The veil came down, thick and heavy, plunging her world into a blurred haze.

She couldn’t see the path ahead. Swaddled in silk gloves, her hand was taken, and the silent maid led her forward. Mila had no idea where they were going, but she knew she didn’t have a choice—her only option was to follow.

At least she didn’t have to stick around with the wolf.

...

A veiled woman in gold, led by a blond maid in stark black and white, drifted through the old stone castle. Down to the first floor, across the echoing hall.

Mila could barely make out anything, but she sensed they’d left the building. The air changed—fragrant, floral. She caught glimpses of bright blooms, realized they’d entered a garden. Then, suddenly, the maid let go.

No voices, only the distant call of birds and insects—a hush that stretched on and on.

Mila waited, then tentatively called out, “Hello? Is anyone there?”