Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 426 "Smack!" Early the next morning.

Lysander woke to the sting of a slap, his sleepy, fox-like eyes blinking in confusion at the woman before him.

"What was that for?" he grumbled, still half in a daze. "What did I do this time?" Another slap, and it wasn't even dawn yet-what on earth had he done wrong now? Suppressing the fury that simmered inside her after what she'd overheard the night before, Mila forced a smile onto her face, her expression composed, her voice calm and detached. She pretended nothing was amiss. "I'm in a bad mood, that's all." Lysander propped himself up on one elbow, considering her answer for a moment. Then, to her surprise, he gave a lopsided grin and leaned closer.

"Well, if slappinghelps, you can go ahead and do it again. Knock yourself out." Mila fell silent, unwilling to play along.

How ridiculous, she thought. The lengths this man would go to for his own ends- he'd even let her strike him and act as if it meant nothing. Then again, what was a few slaps to him? If his plan succeeded, she might lose everything her very life would hang in the balance.

A few slaps were a small price for him to pay.

The more she thought about it, the more her resentment burned. Turning away so he wouldn't see the hatred flashing in her eyes, Mila said nothing and disappeared into the bathroom.

She splashed cold water onto her face, finally able to steady her nerves.

Staring at her pale reflection, water trickling down her cheeks, Mila's lips twitched as she forced an unconvincing smile. Her eyes, sharp and amber, remained empty numb, even. The sight chilled her to the bone.

But it didn't matter.

At least now she knew.

It might be too late, and the path ahead might be nothing but a dead end, but she would never forgive Lysander- the man who had toyed with her from the very beginning, who now dangled her life on a wire stretched over an abyss. One wrong move, and she'd be lost forever.

A knock sounded at the bathroom door, his tall silhouette blurred through the frosted glass.

"Mila? Are you alright? You've been in there a while." "...I'm fine." Wiping her face dry, Mila opened the door, her features arranged into a gentle smile. Acting ceasy to her now.

"So, where are we going today?" she asked lightly.

Lysander looked momentarily surprised. He'd always made the plans, and she'd never shown any interest-so why the sudden curiosity? Still, it was a good sign. He smiled back. "It's all taken care of. Unless you have somewhere in mind?" "I'll go along with whatever you planned." She kept her smile fixed on her face, meeting his bright, expectant gaze, but inside she felt nothing but a glacial emptiness.

The car stopped near the Pantheon.

Lysander asked Leonard to wait by the curb, then took Mila's hand and led her away from the bustling crowds and into a lively little pastry shop nearby.

"Wait here a second," he said, and strode off.

Mila watched him go, his tall frdressed impeccably in a tailored suit. Even from behind, he exuded a certain effortless nobility, standing out in the line of customers.

It was an odd sight.

She kept her expression neutral, but couldn't help thinking how rare it was to see him like this.

A few minutes later, Lysander returned, holding something familiar-a sweet roll filled with whipped cream.

It looked just like the simple pastries she'd had back home.

Plain and unremarkable.

She eyed him, puzzled. "What's this for?" "It's a cream bun," Lysander replied with a grin. "They say it's delicious. Try it." You drove all this way for a pastry? Mila wondered, but she took a small bite anyway, smiling politely as Lysander watched her expectantly.

"It's... fine." "You don't like it?" Lysander's hopeful expression faded slightly, hearing the indifference in her tone.

"I didn't say that." She wanted to play the part, but her bitterness kept slipping through. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't hide the impatience and disinterest.

Truth be told, it tasted just like the old-fashioned cream buns from her childhood. Nothing special.

She didn't understand why he'd brought her here.

Taking a steadying breath to tamp down her swirling emotions, Mila forced another gentle smile. "So, what's next? Anywhere else you want to go?"

If what she'd overheard last night was true, then Lysander's plan for Coswas already in motion. He Göm Q.1 would take her to the final destination O soon wherever that might be.

Whatever was waiting there, she wanted to see just how ruthless he could be-or maybe, if she was honest, whether he even had a heart at all. He could use and deceive anything and anyone.

"Try to be patient with me, will you?" When she abruptly turned to go, Lysander caught her hand, entwining his fingers tightly with hers as he pulled her along.

His grip was firm-unyielding.

A man in a dark suit and a woman in a teal silk dress walked hand in hand through the ancient city of Rome, their hearts worlds apart.

They passed under archways draped in flowers, wandered among om buildings adorned with denturies-old carvings, until finally they entered a cathedral whose ceiling was painted with a sky full of stars. Though Mila knew this was all just an illusion, she couldn't help but be awestruck by the intricate design-the murals chronicling the weight of history.

She saw a starry sky at midday.

A sky full of angels painted beneath the dome, so breathtaking it felt like a miracle a masterpiece crafted by the hands of artisans long gone. Despite herself, she was drawn in. "Do you like it?" Lysander asked, slipping an arm around her waist, trying to pull her close for a kiss. She turned her face away just in time.

"We're in a church," she said quietly, not wanting to break the spell cast by the stars overhead.

"What's the harm in that? They hold weddings here all the time. Listen—" Lysander gestured toward the entrance.