Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 395

Fuming, Mila muttered a curse under her breath as she dragged her exhausted body back to the kitchen door. The wolf immediately began circling her, golden eyes gleaming with anticipation.

So, what was the code again?

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Stomach growling and mouth watering, Mila wracked her brain, trying to recall the code she’d glimpsed a few days ago. She’d tried to sneak a peek from afar, but was caught almost immediately—she hadn’t managed to see much, and she certainly didn’t dare to just start guessing at random.

After agonizing over it, the smell of food seemed so strong she could almost taste it through the door—though, maybe that was just her imagination.

Forget it.

She’d just try something and hope for the best.

Remembering how obsessed Cossio was with Felicity—even going so far as to learn her favorite recipes—Mila took a wild guess. She punched in a string of numbers, figuring if she got it wrong, she’d just have to deal with the consequences.

Click.

The door swung open.

Mila blinked in disbelief. Seriously? That was it? Felicity’s birthday? That was the code? Talk about obvious.

Well, it worked.

Who cared how simple it was—she could finally eat!

Swallowing hard, she and the wolf squeezed into the kitchen together, heading straight for the massive triple-door fridge.

Food! Food!

She flung the fridge open. Inside, shelves were lined with pastries, fresh ingredients, and more food than she’d seen in ages. The sight nearly brought her to tears. Even though she was starving, she forced herself to stay calm.

She reached into a corner for a small, delicate pastry.

It was gone in three quick bites—she barely tasted it. As she reached for another, she felt a tug at her skirt. Looking down, she saw the wolf baring its teeth, growling softly, and nudging the bottom of the fridge door.

Right. She’d almost forgotten about him.

She couldn’t just stand here stuffing her face—after all, they were both sneaking food. Instead, she grabbed some napkins, wrapped up a few more pastries, and picked out a couple of raw, hardy vegetables that would keep for a while. For the wolf, she fished a frozen steak out from the bottom shelf.

Once she was done, she carefully rearranged the vegetable rack and stacked more meat to cover the missing steak, making sure everything looked untouched.

Satisfied that nothing seemed out of place,

She bundled everything up in her skirt and hurried upstairs with the wolf right behind her, closing the kitchen door quietly behind them.

Safe in her room,

She quickly stashed the food in her closet, then took the frozen steak to the bathroom to thaw and rinse it. After a fair bit of effort, she locked the wolf inside the bathroom to eat in peace.

Only then did she start hiding her own food in secret spots around the room—just enough to get her through the next few days. Finally, she began to feel her strength returning, but she didn’t dare leave her room again that night. She was exhausted.

When the wolf finished and curled up contentedly to sleep, Mila was back in the bathroom, meticulously scrubbing away any traces of their midnight raid. Only when everything was spotless did she let herself relax a little.

She drifted into a quick nap.

She opened her mouth to reply, but he cut her off with a quiet command. “I’d prefer if you didn’t speak.”

She understood.

Now it wasn’t just her face she had to hide—she wasn’t even allowed to speak in front of him. What exactly was his game?

He really was a piece of work.

Mila stood in silence as he guided her to the kitchen island. All the tools and ingredients were already laid out. She could guess what he wanted—he didn’t just want a rose cake.

He wanted Felicity’s rose cake.

Good thing those seven years of marriage meant she’d spent more time at the old estate with Felicity than Lysander ever had. She’d learned most of Felicity’s recipes by heart—though her own versions always tasted just a bit different.

Well, she’d do her best.

Careful to keep her face averted, she slipped off her veil just enough to see, then removed her silk gloves. Recalling the steps Felicity had taught her, Mila worked slowly and carefully—her hands were still injured, so she had to grit her teeth through the pain.

It took quite a while, but finally, the cake—topped with dark rose petals—was ready. She cut neat slices, replaced her veil and gloves, and nervously offered a piece to Cossio.

She was terrified that the flavor would be off and he’d lash out.

But Cossio didn’t move.

Mila hesitated, still holding out the plate, frozen in place.

“Darling,” he said softly, “feed me.”