Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 575

The lawn was alive with laughter and conversation.

Despite a few hiccups, the engagement party was finally underway. Once the toasts were mostly done, Mila told the guests to make themselves at home-eat, drink, play, and relax as they pleased. After all, the whole resort was booked out for a month. Even after today, she and Forrest would be staying on for a while, so it made sense to let everyone enjoy themselves now.

Mila leaned over to Forrest, murmured a few words, then slipped away toward the back of the estate, planning to catch her breath and change into something more comfortable before rejoining the festivities.

She'd made it halfway down the hall when someone called her name.

Howard hurried up, looking pale. He lowered his voice. "Ms. Sutherland, there's a problem. Mrs. Montgomery... she's gone. Mr. Sutherland took Mr. Montgomery to the security room to check the cameras."

Mila froze.

She blinked, trying to process the words. Had she misheard? Who was missing?

Mrs. Montgomery.

Felicity?

"Mmm... That smell... roses?"

The sun was setting, painting the resort grounds in warm amber. Felicity wandered among the deep green trees at the edge of the property, eyelashes fluttering as she followed the faint scent she'd caught earlier on the lawn.

It was a strange, lovely fragrance.

Like roses.

Felicity knew that scent well.

Not long ago, Mila had gifted her a special bottle of rose perfume. She'd adored it, used it often, even tried to mix her own version, but she could never quite capture the same note. Later, she'd called Mila and learned that the perfume's roses were a rare variety, created by the perfumer's mentor through years of cultivation. No wonder she couldn't replicate it.

garden roses just weren't

scent, and the little bottle was nearly empty

to stumble across that fragrance today-here, of all places. Not exactly the same, but close. Her nose was sharp; this wasn't the same perfume, but she was certain it

followed the scent as it wound deeper into

kind of rose was it,

as she gently lifted her white skirt, stepping lightly through shadowed trees. She passed through the dusk and into

stepped inside

save for a pair of

the windows

could only see his

hair long, brushing

was an artist. She could tell, just from the sharp lines of his shoulders and neck, that

She smiled to herself.

at

furniture, not even

the scent

to the man. He wore

her, fixed on the sunset outside. The last light gilded his figure in gold and red, giving him an air both elegant and

fragrance in the air

felt a little

couldn't explain it, but as she stared at his back, a strange sense of familiarity tugged at her.

A figure like this...

hand to her forehead. The

"Are you coming in?"

was deep, smooth as velvet-warm, familiar, almost as if they'd known each other for years. It was beautiful,

up, just in time to see the man turn to face