Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 392

She made up her mind.

For the next few days, Mila kept her head down and behaved.

Even though she knew the servants here would never answer her, she still occasionally tried to strike up a conversation with whoever entered her room. No one ever responded, but she didn't mind talking to herself.

Even the wolf that slept in her room every night—she'd finally worked up the nerve to stroke its thick fur.

Maybe it was the failed "revolutionary camaraderie" they'd forged during their attempted midnight kitchen raid, but now, whenever she saw the wolf, her fear had faded a little. She was still wary, but at least she no longer shrank away every time it padded over to nudge or nip at her.

She needed to adapt to this place as quickly as possible.

Only by adjusting could she start to notice the patterns, learn how things worked here, and find her chance to escape.

Each day, she dressed in ill-fitting gowns and veiled her face, then sat in the garden eating whatever Western-style food the man occasionally prepared- simple dishes she'd grown up with, the kind the Montgomery family often ate, and every single one was something Felicity used to make.

After finishing her meal, she dutifully gave her verdict:

Did it taste the same, or not?

Whenever this happened, she'd eat a little more than usual. After all, when the man cooked, no one stopped her from having seconds.

With any other meal, though, she was always interrupted and told to stop after just a few bites. That's why she'd been half-starved these past few days, growing weaker with every passing day.

The constant hunger worried her.

One morning, the maid came as usual to help her wash and change her bandages. Today, she dressed her in a rare splash of color-a red chiffon dress. It was still ill-fitting.

Now, Mila finally understood why. After all, she was a seasoned fashion designer; she could spot the wrong size at a glance, no measuring tape needed, especially once she tried the clothes on.

Every single dress was made for Felicity.

Felicity had always been a bit shorter and smaller than her. The fit was perfect for Felicity... which made it all the more baffling. What exactly was this man's intention?

the Montgomery family, then why stock the house with so many clothes

his connection to

mother, Felicity? Mila couldn't help but recall Felicity's long-standing, unstable mental

maid finished dressing her. This time, her gloves were black lace, with a delicate black rose embroidered on the

veil was different,

a wide-brimmed hat crowned with black roses, with a long black veil cascading down to her waist, obscuring her vision far more than

her outfit was different

corridor. The wolf didn't trail behind her this time. As they passed the painting of the faceless woman at the end of the hall, Mila glanced

-Could it be you?

...

the garden as

long, black limousine

Were they going out?

shot through her. Finally, she'd see the world beyond these walls. She still had no idea where she'd

gently took

was the man. Mila didn't resist. Over the past days, she'd learned a little about

he did touch her, it was always with gloves-both of them

her veil in front of him, there'd be no repeat of the shooting,

into

The man sat across from her, saying nothing about

Mila didn't ask.

get an answer. Instead, she turned and gazed through the thick black veil and the window at the landscape whirring past—a blur of color and

couldn't make

discern the car winding down a long drive, passing through dense woods. The vehicle was soundproofed; she heard nothing from outside as they drove deeper into the forest, eventually stopping near a cluster

lot of people

out, she heard strains of music drifting through the trees, mingling with birdsong and the

sorts of languages filled the

English, French, and others she

One thing was clear:

at some