Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 351

Longing crashed over him, relentless as a tidal wave.

How long had it been?

How long since he'd last seen Mila Sutherland?

He ached to hold her. To kiss her.

Once, he could kneel for hours with his back straight and his face expressionless. Now, his features were drawn and weary, his fox-like eyes flickering with confusion, candlelight dancing in his pupils—unsteady, wild, in time with his racing heart.

Seven days and seven nights.

He'd been on his knees in the family chapel, facing the memorials of generations past. Grief and yearning howled through him, deafening and all-consuming, shaking him to the core.

Bang!

Bang! Bang!

Bang! Bang! Bang!

Each strike thundered through the quiet, and at last, he understood what he wanted.

All those moments of instinctive attraction, unconscious closeness, the ever- growing hunger, the calm that came from her touch... In this moment, it all made sense, all of it real and undeniable.

His eyes grew red, rimmed with the sting of unshed tears.

He bowed his head, staring at his open palm, his vision blurring. Why had it taken him this long? Maybe ignorance would have been kinder.

What had he done?

He pressed his hand over his face, doubling over with his forehead against the polished floor, the silent memorials before him heavy with judgment.

time, he stayed

a low, broken laugh slipped from

with pain, edged with

it didn't matter. She was his now-his, for as

as his will stayed strong.

all built on a lie, he'd carry that

He had no regrets.

seventh morning, the chapel doors creaked open. Sunlight spilled in, stretching Lysander's shadow long and thin across the floor. At

made up your mind?"

trembling, but a faint smile tugged at the corners of his mouth. His words came out hoarse, but

"I only want her."

it mattered. Once he held the reins of the family, he could do

was locked away, and if he let this slip by, he'd never get another opportunity-never one so

timing was right. He

Crack!

anger. He brought the cane down hard on Lysander's back, making him flinch. "Tell me,

What was it?

despite his pale, gaunt

even if she was as lowly as the dust beneath his feet, to him, she was different. Let her be

"I only want her."

spoke again, each word ringing with

were other ways he could intervene, but he didn't want to break the bond

it was always the elder who

old man listened as Lysander's

I want to build a home with

low, nearly

man's eyes went red. He stood there for a long moment, then turned away. In the sunlight, his bent back seemed

chapel, Lysander bowed low, pressing his forehead to the floor three times until blood seeped

me, ancestors!

...