Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 331

Lysander’s brow furrowed, the tension in his expression barely perceptible.

He knew all too well—if the old patriarch got involved now, this mess would only spiral further out of control. There would be no end to it, and the last thing he needed was for Mila to draw the Montgomery family’s attention right now.

A headache.

Running a restless hand through his damp black hair, Lysander paused in thought before saying, “I’ll head over later tonight. And one more thing—get in touch with Professor Mason. Tell him I need his expertise, and ask him to clear his schedule for the next month.”

Leonard froze, uncertainty flickering across his face for the first time. “You mean Professor Mason—the psychiatrist?”

Lysander nodded once.

Leonard’s grip tightened on the pill bottle he was holding.

Professor Mason’s reputation was legendary—renowned both at home and abroad for his work in psychiatry. But years ago, he’d been caught up in a scandal: a botched treatment had left a patient mentally shattered, spiraling into madness and violence. With no hard evidence, Mason had only lost his medical license, but he’d quietly left the country and built a new life overseas.

He was infamous for his uncanny ability to manipulate the human mind.

Was this really what the young master intended...?

Leonard’s thoughts were interrupted by Lysander’s calm, almost chilling voice. His eyes, fox-like and fathomless, shimmered with a darkness that hinted at something wild, barely restrained.

“I want her,” Lysander said, “to come to me again—willingly.”

Whatever it takes,

no matter the cost.

***

“Mmm… mmm… mmm…”

The muffled sobbing pressed in on Mila’s mind, wrenching her from restless sleep. Her head throbbed, her limbs felt numb with cold, and everything around her was shrouded in pitch-black darkness.

Too dark.

Instinctively, she tried to speak. “Light? Where’s the light?”

But she could barely move—her body was tangled tightly in fabric, her breathing shallow and trapped. She tried again, her voice rising with panic.

“Light! Please! I need some light!”

Suddenly, a harsh beam of white light flared, searing her eyes. Mila squinted against the glare but refused to look away, desperate for the brightness. She reached out, only to have her hand caught in a firm grip. A young man’s anxious voice sounded beside her.

“Hey—are you okay? Mila?”

“Mila!”

“The wind?” Mila echoed, uncertain. It didn’t sound like the wind.

The crying had been so mournful, so real.

She’d heard it—just before she passed out, and again as she woke up. It sounded like a woman weeping.

But it was just her and Archie out here. No one else. Maybe it really had been the wind—sometimes the mountains could play strange tricks.

Couldn’t it?

Archie looked spooked, but then his face lit up with an idea. “You said you had a headache, right? It’s probably altitude sickness. That can cause hallucinations, memory problems, all kinds of weird stuff.”

He sounded more and more convinced, and Mila found herself believing him.

She didn’t press further. Instead, she took her medication and sipped oxygen from a portable tank, hoping the pain would pass soon.

Once the altitude sickness faded, her head would clear.

The voices would stop.

So why, then, did her heart still feel so uneasy?