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?

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

the window

by what

The sea stretched as far as she could see, the salty wind rushing in, carrying the distant

Where was she?

her

the middle of an island. Below, a dense

was on

this from

mind.

was stand there in shock. Finally, she gathered herself and strode to the door. She

Nothing.

out much hope, but

surprise, the door

locked?" she

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

around and wait. She'd always been the type to act first and ask questions later. Without hesitation,

happened, she wasn't going to

kind of old-world architecture you'd expect in a centuries-old European castle, the air

oil portraits that lined the walls. None of them were labeled, but Mila noticed something peculiar: every single portrait was of someone with golden-brown curls and striking green eyes-men and women, their facial features similar, but each dressed in the fashion of a different era. The further she

owned this place-a lineage stretching back hundreds, perhaps even a thousand years. Judging by the

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

Or Western European,

the end of the corridor, Mila

final portrait was

flowing black hair—but