Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 566

Late at night, at Bamboo Grove.

A warm desk lamp cast a golden glow over the study. On the desk, a crimson scroll edged in gold lay unfurled. Forrest Whitmore, silver-rimmed glasses perched on his nose, held a calligraphy brush dipped in shimmering gold ink, carefully inscribing elegant characters.

One golden letter after another appeared on the red paper.

Yet after only a dozen words, Forrest's brow furrowed. With a frustrated sigh, he tore the paper in half and threw it into the trash. Howard, waiting by his side, quickly rolled out a fresh sheet of red paper.

Forrest began again.

This ritual had played out dozens of times in the quiet hours of the night. The wastebasket was nearly overflowing with discarded scrolls. Howard's gaze lingered on the bold, graceful golden script, and at last he spoke up, "Sir, it's already excellent. The letters are perfect-you could finish it all in one go."

"It's not good enough," Forrest replied, not even glancing up. "This is my engagement document with Mimi."

It had to be perfect.

Not a single flaw was allowed.

"But your hand..." Howard's eyes drifted to Forrest's grip on the brush, noticing the faint tremor. He frowned with concern. Forrest's hand still hadn't fully healed, and he'd been hunched over writing for hours...

"What is it?" Forrest didn't catch the words.

"It's very late," Howard urged gently. "You should rest. After a good night's sleep, you might write even better."

Forrest shook his head, still writing as he replied, "The engagement party is tomorrow. I have to finish tonight. Besides—” He paused, glancing up with a boyish grin. "I couldn't sleep if I tried."

The closer the engagement party drew, the more exhilarated he felt.

When Howard realized he couldn't persuade him, he could only step back. After all, it was rare to see Forrest so giddy-this was a once-in-a-lifetime event, after all.

The clock ticked on, hours slipping by.

paper littered

dawn crept through the window, Forrest set down his brush, his hand trembling. He gazed at the vertical columns

across the crimson

work, finished

sealed

out the

reflected in

dream he'd carried since boyhood

...

The Dressing Room.

been up before dawn, rushing to

in front of the mirror, letting the makeup artist work

far

barely slept at

seen a bride this beautiful," the makeup artist

wasn't just Mila's looks

engagement itself was unlike any

worked countless high-society weddings, so they thought they'd seen

about opulence

vel

had reserved the entire grounds beyond the lawns stretched endless fields and woodlands, with distant mountain peaks on the horizon. The venue offered no gaudy extravagance. Instead, guests were greeted by a breathtaking

plenty of lavish affairs, but something

was rare.

it had clearly

engagement party. Who could imagine what the

made the makeup artist hesitate. Too bold, and the makeup would overpower their

artist's praise and instinctively

didn't pay it

was used to the obligatory compliments, but

a mental note to give the crew a generous tip once it was all