Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 392

She made up her mind.

For the next few days, Mila kept her head down and behaved.

Even though she knew the servants here would never answer her, she still occasionally tried to strike up a conversation with whoever entered her room. No one ever responded, but she didn’t mind talking to herself.

Even the wolf that slept in her room every night—she’d finally worked up the nerve to stroke its thick fur.

Maybe it was the failed “revolutionary camaraderie” they’d forged during their attempted midnight kitchen raid, but now, whenever she saw the wolf, her fear had faded a little. She was still wary, but at least she no longer shrank away every time it padded over to nudge or nip at her.

She needed to adapt to this place as quickly as possible.

Only by adjusting could she start to notice the patterns, learn how things worked here, and find her chance to escape.

Each day, she dressed in ill-fitting gowns and veiled her face, then sat in the garden eating whatever Western-style food the man occasionally prepared—simple dishes she’d grown up with, the kind the Montgomery family often ate, and every single one was something Felicity used to make.

After finishing her meal, she dutifully gave her verdict:

Did it taste the same, or not?

Whenever this happened, she’d eat a little more than usual. After all, when the man cooked, no one stopped her from having seconds.

With any other meal, though, she was always interrupted and told to stop after just a few bites. That’s why she’d been half-starved these past few days, growing weaker with every passing day.

The constant hunger worried her.

One morning, the maid came as usual to help her wash and change her bandages. Today, she dressed her in a rare splash of color—a red chiffon dress. It was still ill-fitting.

Now, Mila finally understood why. After all, she was a seasoned fashion designer; she could spot the wrong size at a glance, no measuring tape needed, especially once she tried the clothes on.

Every single dress was made for Felicity.

Felicity had always been a bit shorter and smaller than her. The fit was perfect for Felicity... which made it all the more baffling. What exactly was this man’s intention?

If he hated the Montgomery family, then why stock the house with so many clothes in Felicity’s size?

Just what was his connection to the Montgomerys?

Or, more specifically, what was the real relationship between him and Lysander’s mother, Felicity? Mila couldn’t help but recall Felicity’s long-standing, unstable mental state—none of this could mean anything good.

Lost in thought, Mila barely noticed as the maid finished dressing her. This time, her gloves were black lace, with a delicate black rose embroidered on the back of the hand.

Her veil was different, too.

Instead of the usual, it was a wide-brimmed hat crowned with black roses, with a long black veil cascading down to her waist, obscuring her vision far more than before.

Everything about her outfit was different today.

Led by the hand, she followed the maid down the corridor. The wolf didn’t trail behind her this time. As they passed the painting of the faceless woman at the end of the hall, Mila glanced at it out of the corner of her eye.

—Could it be you?

...

Downstairs, they didn’t head to the garden as usual, but stopped at the front doors instead.

A long, black limousine was waiting outside.

Were they going out?

A jolt of excitement shot through her. Finally, she’d see the world beyond these walls. She still had no idea where she’d been taken—only that it was some island, and escape would be nearly impossible.

Someone gently took her wrist.