Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 193

"Slap!"

The sharp crack echoed through the living room of Crimson Gardens, the Montgomery family's grand estate.

"What did I tell you?"

Lysander's eyes, usually so calculating, simmered with anger. "I instructed you to bring her back unharmed, and this is what you call unharmed?"

When he returned, she was unconscious on the bed, her hands marred with scratches.

Is this your idea of unharmed?

Leonard turned his head slightly, blood trickling from the corner of his mouth. His expression was calm, as if he felt no pain.

After a few sharp words of reprimand, Lysander inquired, "What about her luggage?"

"I've sent someone to retrieve it from the airport," Leonard replied, then asked, "What should we do about Miranda?"

Lysander frowned.

"Send her back to the Waynes. Tell Quentin Wayne to keep his daughter in line—no more trying to drag my wife into their messes, disrupting other families! And inform Harding & Cole Legal to suspend her from work. If she's got time to meddle, she doesn't need a job."

"Understood."

Leonard nodded and left the room.

...

Mila awoke, instantly recognizing she was back at Crimson Gardens.

She had lived here for seven years, slept in this very bed for seven years. She knew the space intimately, its structure, its scent.

As her memory returned, her face darkened, recalling the recent past.

Disgust and anger surged within her, compelling her to get out of bed immediately. But a sharp pain in her palms made her wobble, a muffled groan escaping her lips.

Sitting up, she spread her hands, revealing several fresh cuts from earlier struggles.

The memory of what had happened filled her with rage, making her tremble with fury.

"Lysander!"

She loathed this side of Lysander.

It suffocated her.

"Lysander, what are you trying to achieve? What good does this do you? What's the point?"

Lysander remained silent, his eyes dark and inscrutable.

She couldn't understand him.

Nor did she want to try anymore—she was exhausted.

Mila bit her lip, her expression weary. She finally spoke, "I don't want anything anymore—not the shares, none of it. I'll leave with nothing. I give up. Just let me go, please."

"No."

His voice was calm, yet it shattered the last vestiges of Mila's composure.

She struggled to contain her erupting anger, her voice trembling with rage as her eyes reddened. She couldn't comprehend, "Why are you doing this?"