Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 467

Mila kept her face unreadable, though curiosity flickered in her eyes. She had to get to the bottom of this. “Why are you so insistent that I go over there?”

“Be clear,” she pressed.

“What do you mean?”

Sophia shot her a cold, withering look. “I’m sick and tired of this. My own son can’t even recognize his own mother. You’re going over there, and you’re going to set things straight for both of us.”

Mila massaged her aching temples, her voice low and restrained. “Ms. Pembroke, I won’t bother telling you to be reasonable—I know it’s pointless. But do you really not understand why your son is acting this way? Do you think I *wanted* to be mistaken for his mother? Please, get a grip.”

She glanced over at Nathaniel, who sat awkwardly on the other side, clearly embarrassed. “When it comes to your son, I’ve done all I can—more than enough, honestly. Believe whatever you want, but I’ve never tried to mislead him. My conscience is clear.”

“I only care about the results,” Sophia replied smoothly, her expression blank. “The fact is, my son insists you’re his mother. That’s the only thing that matters to me.”

She didn’t care about anything else.

Mila’s patience was wearing thin.

Was this ever going to end?

Why did she always seem to run into these unreasonable, powerful people? She didn’t fear them anymore, but she was tired—exhausted, really. Was it so hard for people to act like normal human beings?

“I’m not going with you, and you can’t make me.” Mila was done arguing, her tone flat and firm.

“You really want to bet on that?” Sophia’s voice was steady, almost amused.

“I do.”

Sophia idly rolled the fork between her fingers, then let out a cold laugh. “You’re more confident than you look.”

The next moment, everything blurred. Something sharp pressed hard against Mila’s neck, biting into the skin just over her carotid artery. It was the same fork Sophia had been playing with. Cold sweat broke out along Mila’s brow.

No one had seen it coming.

“Don’t move,” Sophia warned.

She pressed the fork a little deeper, sinews standing out on her forearm. Mila’s skin reddened where the metal dug in. The men nearby turned pale, frozen with fear—no one dared move, terrified Sophia might snap and drive the fork straight in.

No one could have predicted this level of insanity from her.

There were security cameras everywhere, for God’s sake.

But really, with things this far gone—if Sophia was bold enough to act like this out in public, would Mila dare set foot in the Pembroke estate?

“Please, sis…” Nathaniel’s voice trembled. “Please, you just got out. If something happens again, you won’t get another chance. Mila helped Julian when no one else could—she’s done us a kindness. Please, put the fork down. Let’s talk this through…”

“I told you, I only care about the result.” Sophia actually smiled this time, cold and bitter. “And honestly, what do I have left to be afraid of?”

That’s how she’d always been.

Six or seven years ago, there had still been things that frightened her. But after that night, she’d shed all fear. Once you get used to living on the edge, nothing really matters anymore.

“Mr. Whitmore, I know who you are and what you’re capable of.” Sophia’s eyes flicked to Forrest, who had been inching his hand toward his smartwatch. “I’d advise you not to do anything rash. I can be… unpredictable.” As she spoke, the fork pressed down again, the vein beneath Mila’s skin throbbing.

Forrest had no choice but to back off.

Just then, from the far corner of the room—right where Sophia’s line of sight didn’t quite reach—Leonard, sitting by the door, spoke up. His face was calm, betraying no hint of anxiety.

“Ms. Pembroke, someone wants to talk to you.”

He lifted his phone, holding it up for all to see.