Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 508

Miranda Wayne was pretty sure she’d just seen a ghost.

What else could explain the cold barrel of a gun pressed to the back of her head, and the voice—God, that voice—identical to the one from her nightmares?

And then he’d actually admitted it!

But… but… ghosts didn’t use guns, right?

So what the hell was standing behind her? That guy was supposed to be dead. She’d even asked Mila about it, and heard he’d been reduced to ashes—nothing left but a handful of dust. There was no way someone could come back from that, not even as a mummy.

Miranda’s heart hammered in her chest.

She bitterly regretted her choices. Why had she found the ballroom so stifling? Couldn’t she have gone anywhere else for some air? Why, of all places, did she have to wander into the garden—alone? But this was Jade’s estate, for heaven’s sake! Who would ever expect some deranged maniac to sneak in?

“Did you hear me? Speak.”

The thing—man, ghost, whatever—behind her sounded irritated, pressing the gun harder against her skull.

“I—I heard you,” Miranda stammered, swallowing hard. But curiosity got the better of her, and she couldn’t help blurting, “Are you… are you human, or a ghost?”

She’d never sleep again if she didn’t ask.

Actually, scratch that—she might not even live to see the sunrise!

Damn it!

What, did she break some cosmic law by stopping to enjoy the flowers?

Why was she being punished like this?

“Does it matter?” The man’s voice was icy cold. Miranda shivered, forcing a nervous laugh. “No, it doesn’t, not at all. Please, go on.”

“I thought you said you understood?” His tone dropped even colder.

“…”

Could she admit that she’d been so freaked out, the moment he called himself Lysander Montgomery, her mind had gone completely blank?

She had no idea what he’d just said!

A low chuckle—dry and mocking. He stepped closer, and in her peripheral vision, Miranda caught a glimpse of a half-face mask, ghostly white, with a single blood-red tear painted beneath the eyehole. Under the glow of the garden lamps, it looked horrifyingly vivid.

Her heart nearly burst from her chest.

“Listen closely.”

He rapped the gun against her head. Leaning down, the pale mask was so close she could feel the chill. His whisper was like ice water poured directly into her ear, freezing her thoughts.

This time, she didn’t miss a word.

And when he finished, her fear snapped into anger. Her heart steadied, replaced by a sudden, blazing fury.

She snapped, “Why should I? I refuse!”

Bang!

He slammed the gun against her head again. “Can you keep it down?” he said coldly.

“…I can.”