Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 403

Chapter 396

Mila fell silent.

Why was this man so impossibly difficult? He was just as infuriating as Lysander -no, even worse than Lysander!

Not that she dared voice any of this; she kept the complaints locked away inside.

Taking a slow breath, she obediently scooped up a small bite of cake with a spoon and, fighting down a wave of discomfort, offered it to the man. He leaned forward slightly and accepted it from her lips.

The kitchen was unnaturally quiet.

Mila's nerves were strung tight. She worried that if she'd gotten the flavor wrong, he'd lose his temper-and then she'd really be in trouble.

A long, tense moment passed.

Then, suddenly, Cossio reached out and took the plate from her.

He must want to eat by himself now.

Relief washed over her. The taste must have been right.

But before she could relax, the plate slipped from his grasp. It crashed to the floor, shattering into pieces. Cake and crumbs scattered everywhere.

Mila's heart plummeted.

A second later, the man's voice broke the silence, calm and detached: "Wrong. She would never feed me cake like that... I can't forgive what happened last night. You need to be punished."

What?!

swore out

her behavior? And what was that about? Did he seriously mistake her for Lysander's mother? Was he insane? How could anyone confuse the

This was madness!

back anymore. Gritting her teeth, she spat out, "Sir, why did you even kidnap me? Are you trying to threaten the Montgomery family? Because I'll tell

expect any

people-cold, cruel, and sadistic. The usual threats were bad enough; who knew what kind of twisted punishment he'd come up

No more pretending!

me, it won't hurt the Montgomerys. You'll get nothing out of it —it's all a waste of your energy!" Her tone softened a little as she stepped closer. "Listen, why don't we talk this out? Money, information-whatever you want,

would never say something like

man interrupted, suddenly closing the distance between them. Mila instinctively backed away until her hips hit the counter, trapping her. His gloved hand reached

her wrist in an iron grip. His voice was quiet,

ties you have or don't have

You know her well, and she was fond of you. I want you

"If

I'll

"Take her downstairs."

he stepped back, two blonde maids entered the kitchen, grabbed Mila

let go—even as the wound on her left hand split open and fresh blood dripped to the floor. She screamed

bother begging for mercy; she knew it would do

heard men talk about the sick things they did to women. She had no illusions about the

punishment was,

already shattered-Mila had to assume the worst, and she couldn't let herself fall

No matter what.

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