Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 384

"Mmm..."

Mila stirred, her eyelids fluttering as she slowly woke. She lay on a round bed draped in deep crimson velvet, a black silk comforter tangled around her. She was wearing a white satin nightgown, and as her eyes finally opened, confusion flickered in their depths.

Her head throbbed with pain. For a moment, she couldn't piece together what had happened.

She lay still, trying to gather her thoughts. Where was she? This definitely wasn't a hospital room. No, wait-someone had attacked her.

She shot upright, panic spiking through her body.

Her gaze darted around, scanning for any sign of danger. All she could see were the curtains of deep red velvet hanging around the bed, blocking her view of the rest of the room. Had one of her great-aunt's old enemies kidnapped her and brought her here?

It made no sense.

How had they managed to act so quickly? She'd just arrived overseas and had already taken every precaution. None of it added up.

And where exactly was "here"?

How was her great-aunt? Had they hurt her, too?

Mila forced herself to push down her anxiety. She had no idea what the situation was, so she didn't dare make any sudden moves. Carefully, she slid to the edge of the bed and crept to the side. She gently pulled back a corner of the heavy curtain, peering out through the narrow gap.

Outside the bed curtains, the room glowed with the warm light of old-fashioned lamps. The decor was lavish, almost decadent, with a distinctly Western gothic flair—ornate, dark, and mysterious. The walls were covered in murals of black roses, their thorny stems twisting together, lending the opulent space an eerie, almost menacing beauty.

Mila circled the bed, making sure she was alone. Only then did she step out, her bare feet sinking into a soft rug embroidered with black roses.

Her mind spun with questions and uncertainty.

If this really was an enemy of her great-aunt's, why hadn't they tied her up? Why put her in a room this extravagant-if a little unsettling? What was going on?

wasn't an option. She crossed to the window and pulled back the heavy black drapes, flooding the room with

the window

by what she

danced on endless waves. The sea stretched as far as she could see, the salty wind rushing in, carrying the distant cries

Where was she?

out the window, craning her neck to see more.

with soaring spires-perched atop a hill in the middle of an island. Below, a dense forest wrapped around the base, and beyond

on

far was this from Eldermere?

raced through her mind. For a long moment, all she

to the door. She pressed her

Nothing.

out much hope, but she

surprise, the door opened

locked?"

ever. What did her captors want? Why bring her here just to leave her unrestrained, as if the sheer isolation of this island fortress

around and wait. She'd

she wasn't going to sit

out into a long corridor of gray stone, the kind of old-world architecture you'd expect in a centuries-old European castle, the

portrait was of someone with golden-brown curls and striking green eyes-men and women, their facial features similar, but each dressed in the

owned this place-a lineage stretching back hundreds, perhaps even a thousand years. Judging by the emphasis on family resemblance and the sheer number of portraits, she suspected they

only the most powerful European aristocratic families could have held onto a castle like this through the centuries. She couldn't quite place the country, but judging by the

Or

as she reached the end of the

final portrait was completely

black hair—but her face