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

to mean? The problem wasn't the cake, it was her behavior? And what was that about? Did he

This was madness!

trying to threaten the Montgomery family? Because I'll tell you right now, Lysander couldn't care less about me. He only cares

didn't expect any mercy

days, he was the kind who delighted in tormenting people-cold, cruel, and sadistic. The usual threats were bad enough; who knew what kind of twisted

No more pretending!

stepped closer. "Listen, why don't we talk this out? Money, information-whatever you want, I'll

never say

away until her hips hit the counter, trapping her. His gloved hand reached out, brushing her cheek

her wrist in

ties you have or don't

her for a long time. You know her well, and she was fond of you. I want you

"If

can't, I'll

"Take her downstairs."

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

doorframe, refusing to let go—even as the wound on her left hand split open and fresh blood dripped to the

for mercy; she knew it

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

of punishment was,

the worst, and she couldn't let herself fall into that

No matter what.

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