Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 368

Night had fallen.

Outside a lavishly decorated, brilliantly lit restaurant, an orange Bentley Continental purred to a stop. From it stepped a stunning woman in a fitted emerald velvet dress that shimmered under the lights. The delicate pearl clasps at her collar seemed to glow softly. A white knitted shawl draped over her shoulders, half-concealing her graceful figure. She moved with an effortless poise, every step exuding quiet elegance and wealth.

As she glanced around with a gentle smile, the effect was mesmerizing—like a warm spring breeze drifting through morning mist, leaving onlookers spellbound, as if caught in a dream.

Passersby couldn’t help but stare, though none dared to meet her gaze directly. They stole quick glances from the corners of their eyes, their caution explained by the three burly men in dark suits who flanked her: unmistakable bodyguards.

A vision of serene beauty, guarded by intimidating men.

Heads turned. Eyes followed her into the restaurant, accompanied by gentle music. Only after she disappeared inside did the crowd outside burst into hushed excitement—

“She’s gorgeous—think she’s a celebrity?”

“Can’t be. I’d know if she was famous. There’s nobody like that online.”

“Did she just look at me?”

“Dream on, she was looking at me!”

“Anyone get a picture?”

“...Totally forgot.”

——

Mila, of course, was oblivious to the commotion at the door—and even if she’d known, she would have just sighed. She never wanted to draw this much attention, but without her bodyguards, she wouldn’t have dared to meet with the Montgomery family.

Not even her own son.

Guided by a staff member, she made her way through the restaurant. From across the room, she heard Adrian’s joyful shout: “Mom! Mom, over here!”

She looked up, then paused.

Standing beside her son, waving, was a man lounging at the table—elbow propped up, chin resting lazily on his hand, fox-like eyes narrowed in a teasing smile. His gaze lingered on her waist, just a touch too long and just a shade too possessive, making Mila frown in annoyance.

...Thank goodness she’d brought the bodyguards.

“What are you doing here?” Mila’s tone was clipped. Hadn’t they agreed she’d only have dinner with the child?

His smile was easy. “What’s wrong with both parents joining their child for dinner? Or are we a single-parent family now?”

She fell silent.

“Mom!”

Before Mila could say another word, Adrian barreled into her arms, looking up at her with shining eyes, equal parts excited and wounded. “Mom, I missed you so much! I called you a hundred times and you never answered. Dad said you went on holiday. Why didn’t you take me?”

“Your mother didn’t take your father, either,” Lysander interjected smoothly.

“Lysander!” Mila’s expression turned frosty. “Aren’t we here for dinner? If you’re not eating—”

He gave a little sigh, lining up the cutlery with deliberate grace. Mila ignored him entirely, steering Adrian to a seat across from Lysander.

Lysander smiled, sliding the utensils toward her.

Mila, bracing herself for a meltdown, tried to soothe him, but the moment she opened her mouth, Adrian’s wailing grew louder.

Her head was pounding when Lysander finally spoke, voice cool and measured. “Adrian.”

Instantly, Adrian fell silent. He pressed his lips together, eyes brimming with tears, but he didn’t dare make another sound. Mila felt a chill settle over her.

It was always the same.

Her son never listened to her. Not just with Lysander—anyone’s word seemed to carry more weight than hers. Whenever he acted up, he never cared how she felt.

Then Lysander, face expressionless, spoke again. “If you want something, crying and throwing a fit isn’t the way. Is that how I taught you?”

“I’m sorry, Dad.”

“Apologize to your mother.”

Adrian wanted to protest that it was her fault for lying, but after a moment, he relented and muttered, “...Sorry, Mom.”

Mila frowned. Something about this felt wrong.

After that, Adrian barely spoke a word. He grew withdrawn and quiet, and Mila’s discomfort only grew. Was this really how a father should teach a child? It felt less like parenting and more like… giving orders to a subordinate.

Was that how a child should be raised?

“Not happy?” Lysander’s smooth voice broke into her thoughts.

Mila’s frown eased, but she said nothing. She was certain Lysander was only putting on a show for her benefit—to unsettle her, to make her worry. But whatever his motive, one thing was clear: she had no interest in fighting for custody. Her son would never listen to her, and he’d never choose to go with her.