Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 333

She had to get out-no matter what.

Her first instinct was to reach out to Forrest, but she hesitated. How could she possibly explain everything? She'd been the one to propose, listened to his confession, and yet somehow ended up in another man's bed.

Even if it hadn't been her choice, the guilt was still overwhelming.

Miranda was out of the question, too.

All she could do was turn to her great-aunt overseas.

Her great-aunt, Jade Sutherland, had fled their hometown years ago and settled in England. Mila had only reconnected with her after she herself escaped to study at Kingsford. But Jade's career had taken off—she was always busy, and their contact had been sporadic at best.

Not long ago, when Mila's parents had shown up to pressure her into marriage, she'd thought about asking Jade for help. In the end, she'd held back, too afraid that her family would discover Jade's whereabouts and drag her back into their toxic web. Mila couldn't bear to ruin the hard-won freedom her aunt had fought for. She never imagined things would spiral this far out of control.

Now, with everything unraveled, Mila was willing to abandon her nearly completed studies and promising future at Northpoint University just to start over in England with Jade.

Lysander had lost his mind.

Given the choice between freedom and her future, she knew exactly where she stood. The only question was-could Jade get to her in time?

...

recalled the code she'd memorized after days of furtive observation. She

phone rang and rang, but no one answered. Eventually,

drained of color, her heart

How could this be?

was in English-not that it mattered, her English was flawless. The gist was that Jade was in the middle of designing a major gown commission and would be in seclusion for several months. Leave a message, and she'd get back when she

Of all the times...

open. A tall figure loomed in the doorway, casting a shadow over

you might

prince of the British royal family. There's a royal gala coming up soon, and I recommended Ms. Jade Sutherland to design the Queen's gown. You know her, don't you? Designing for the Queen is no small matter. If she pulls this off, her

hair, though his voice remained

at him, trembling with

phone and dialed again—this time, Forrest's number. She lunged to grab it back, but the call had already

male voice answered on the

"Mr. Montgomery?"

"Good evening, Mr. Whitmore."

Forrest hasn't been around campus lately. I was hoping to meet with him about his

Mr. Whitmore replied, his hesitation gone. "He's been a bit

"Thank you, Mr. Whitmore."

another number-Miranda's. Once again, it wasn't Miranda

whom she'd met

after Miranda, her father sounded weary, half-asleep. "She's gone abroad for a