Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 395

Chapter 388

Mila was so hungry her head was starting to spin.

Across from her, the man picked up his cane and, with the silver-engraved handle, tapped lightly on the pair of silk gloves resting on the table-the ones she'd just taken off and set down.

She sucked in a deep breath, exasperated.

Seriously?

What was with this obsessive compulsion? The urge to laugh bubbled up, but she fought it down and obediently slipped the gloves back on. Just as she finished, the plate of pastries was handed over again.

She took a bite. The dessert was so sweet it nearly brought her to tears.

Finally, something to eat.

At this point, anything tasted delicious to her. She did her best to eat with a semblance of grace, but she didn't bother to slow down; soon, the pastries were gone.

A small cup of coffee appeared.

She drank it in one gulp, wincing at the bitterness.

Honestly, she was still hungry. The pastries had only been a few tiny pieces, nowhere near enough. But the man ignored her, sitting off to the side, eyes fixed on his book.

The garden was utterly silent.

With the veil draped over her head, Mila couldn't see a thing-appreciating the garden was out of the question. Everything in her view was just a blur of color.

Still, she could make out one thing:

Black and crimson roses dominated the garden-the same variety as the one the man had placed in her palm earlier.

She didn't get it.

He'd brought her here by force, hadn't killed her, hadn't made any demands, barely even said a word. He refused any attempt at communication. What was the point of all this?

supposed to live or die? Couldn't he

his book. Gloved in black leather, his

then slipped beneath

perched delicately on

surprise, unsure what he wanted. Was she supposed to take it? She hesitantly reached out, and the butterfly fluttered down to her finger, trembling for a moment before taking

man returned

Time crawled toward noon. Mila was almost dozing off

the veil, several figures moved

a sunshade overhead and arranged a long table nearby, laying

Her stomach growled.

she didn't

her face, she stole a glance at the man. He closed his book, handed it to a waiting servant, and took

one paid her any

she supposed to

...

hunger eventually won out. Lifting the heavy folds of her gold gown, Mila shuffled over to the table and sat down, pulling out a

one stopped

up a knife and fork and stabbed a piece of roast chicken from the nearest platter, lifting a corner of her veil just

No one intervened.

allowed to eat?

What kind of kidnapper starves

one tried to stop her, and it wasn't like she was about to let herself starve to death. Mila didn't bother with pretense-she quickly polished off two pieces of chicken, then, emboldened, reached for another dish. That's

servant, who had been standing silently

pulled her away from the table

back in her wrought-iron chair

barely eaten a

veil, Mila glared at the man still dining unhurriedly at

Lunch ended soon after.

the servants cleared away the untouched food. It would've been easier if she'd never gotten a taste in the first place-now her

man liked

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