Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 510

“No.”

Miranda’s tone was firm.

She had made up her mind—whatever game Lysander was playing, she was going to try his suggestion, but on her own terms.

Hiding wasn’t going to solve anything.

If she couldn’t fix the situation, then she’d deal with the person causing it.

She refused to believe Lysander was truly fearless. And if he didn’t have a weakness, well, she could always create one.

All she needed—

All she needed was to persuade Mila.

With that thought, Miranda reached out and caught Mila, who still looked ready to keep searching. “Mila, let the staff handle the search. You—” She looked closely at her friend, whose face was ghostly pale beneath the garden lights.

“You don’t look well at all. Let me take you back to your room for a bit, okay?”

Mila was exhausted.

Ever since leaving the ballroom, her nerves had been stretched to the breaking point. But she just couldn’t sit still; she needed to drag that man out of hiding, or at least be sure he’d left the manor. Otherwise, she’d never be able to relax… Everywhere she turned, she felt Lysander’s eyes on her.

Watching from the shadows.

Cold as ice, piercing straight through her, making her shiver.

“Mimi, go rest for a while.” Just as Mila was about to protest, Forrest—who’d been silent until now—spoke up. “I’ll keep an eye on things here. You should go get some rest.”

“But I—”

Forrest gently pried her fingers loose from the golf club slick with her nervous sweat. “It’s all right,” he said with a reassuring smile. “Go and rest. I’ll worry if you keep pushing yourself. I’ll tell you the moment there’s news… and you’ll be safer in the house.”

His voice was steady, his smile warm—the kind that soothed Mila’s restless anxiety almost instantly.

She finally let herself relax, just a little.

Miranda quickly jumped in, “Come on, let’s go. I actually need to talk to you about something, and I could really use your advice.”

Mila hesitated, but nodded.

She needed a moment to breathe.

Forrest watched her walk away, his gaze following her until, suddenly, Miranda turned her head to look back at him. Their eyes met for a split second before Miranda quickly looked away, and Forrest’s brow quirked—then immediately furrowed again.

Pain.

His hand was throbbing.

Once Mila was gone, he no longer forced himself to hide it. His fingers spasmed uncontrollably, and the golf club slipped from his grasp, clattering to the floor.

“Mr. Whitmore?”

A housekeeper looked over, startled by the sound.

Forrest dropped his head, trying to hide the sweat beading on his pale face, struggling to keep his hand from trembling as he picked up the club. His voice was slow, measured.

“I need to step away for a moment. I’ll be right back.”