Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 507

No matter what it was.

“…Yeah.”

Forcing a smile despite the sting still burning on her lips, Mila managed, “I’m fine. It just caught me off guard for a second, that’s all. What are you up to?”

She glanced at the computer, eager to change the subject.

“Jade has already locked down the estate,” Forrest replied, setting aside the bottle of antiseptic. He pulled the laptop closer. “I figured I’d check the security footage, see where he went last. Do you want to look?”

He was worried the footage might upset Mila again.

“I do.”

With a dangerous man hiding somewhere on the grounds, Mila had regained her composure and wanted nothing more than to find him—at the very least, to figure out his motives and prepare accordingly. The thought of someone lurking in the shadows, watching her every move, left her restless and on edge.

She leaned in beside him to watch.

…

The security cameras covered nearly the entire estate. Right now, the ballroom feed was playing, chaos unfolding onscreen.

Jade stood at the center of the dance floor.

A group of servants moved through the crowd, scanning faces. The guests were restless, but with Jade holding command, things hadn’t spiraled out of control—though here and there, someone let out a shout of anger.

Forrest dragged the timeline back.

He rewound the footage until the ballroom was empty, then watched as a flood of elegantly dressed guests poured in and the party began.

Both of them stared at the screen, barely blinking.

Before long, Mila spotted herself standing at the edge of the dance floor. As the footage progressed, she felt her heart pounding harder with every second.

There.

After the first man invited her to dance and she turned him down, a figure slowly emerged from an upper corner—a blind spot for the camera—on her left. A man draped in a black cloak, his face hidden behind a ghastly mask streaked with crimson tears, stepped into view. His purpose was clear: he moved straight through the crowd, heading directly for her.

Mila didn’t need to watch any further.

She didn’t want to.

Forrest, though, was seeing the whole encounter for the first time. He watched as the masked man finished the dance, pressed a kiss to Mila’s hand, and plucked the rose from her mask. Forrest’s usually calm eyes darkened.

Of course.

He saw it all. At that moment, Forrest himself was crossing the ballroom, and the masked man must have noticed—this was a blatant show of defiance, a warning.

A warning not to interfere.

Forrest’s hands, resting on his knees, curled into fists. A jolt of pain shot from his knuckles up his arm, sending a sharp ache pounding through his head. His temples throbbed—a flare-up of the nerve pain left over from a shattered hand, something that hadn’t troubled him since Lysander’s supposed death a year ago.