Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 390

"Phew..."

Mila pressed her back into the couch, keeping her breathing shallow and quiet. Her chest rose and fell ever so slightly, and beads of sweat dotted her forehead.

Had she been discovered?

She didn't dare peek around the corner again, forced to wait in agonizing suspense for the worst to happen.

Every second crawled by like an eternity.

She held her breath for what felt like ages, but still, no footsteps approached. Instead, she heard a soft beep, followed by the creak of a door opening.

Had she managed to avoid being found?

After a few more moments, Mila cautiously poked her head out. The kitchen door down the hall was cracked open, but there was no one in sight-just a sliver of empty space. Whoever it was must have gone inside.

She let out a slow breath, relieved. But then a new wave of unease washed over her. Why would someone come to the kitchen in the dead of night? Surely, she wasn't the only one hungry at this hour?

Just as she was pondering this, a sudden, thunderous noise shattered the silence.

BANG!

Mila jumped, her heart lurching.

The sound came from the kitchen. Once her initial shock faded, her years of culinary experience kicked in-she recognized the unmistakable thud of a heavy knife hitting a chopping board. Someone was... chopping something? Hard?

BANG!

BANG! BANG! BANG!

repeated, jarring noise made her heart pound

at this hour? And

old mansion have a

have to be

of curiosity and nerves she couldn't explain, Mila crept silently to the kitchen door

spacious

pot simmered, sending up clouds of fragrant steam. A man in a red robe, his back to her, wielded a cleaver, hacking at a rack of raw lamb

Mila's nerves

stew-lamb stew, by the looks

stew in the middle of the night? What kind of person

that everyone in this place was strange. Not just the silent servants, but even the master of the manor himself-every one of them mute

brought? What kind of den of wolves

fate gnawed at her. Her hunger had evaporated, and with someone still in the kitchen, her plan to sneak a

on the wolf, too, slinking carefully from behind the table and chairs toward the

collided headlong with the wolf and

spare her a glance. It moved with a surprising lightness, bounding up the stairs as if running from something that terrified it. Mila could have sworn she saw... fear

Impossible, she told herself.

a wolf-what could it possibly be

despite her rationalization, a chill crept into her chest. She glanced nervously back toward the kitchen, an uneasy thought

hurried up the stairs without

was drawn, as always, to the first painting—a faceless woman with long, dark hair. That

she saw that painting, it felt like

certain she'd seen it somewhere before, but no matter how she tried, she couldn't recall

of being noticed, she cast a final, uneasy glance at the faceless woman in the painting and

the rest of

and fear

which point the maid arrived as usual to feed the wolf and lead