Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 7

After discussing their impending divorce for what felt like hours, Mila and Miranda finally left the cozy bar around ten in the evening.

As soon as they reached the entrance, Mila came to an abrupt halt.

"What's up?" Miranda asked, stepping out from behind her.

"It's Lysander's car."

Mila pointed to a sleek black Rolls-Royce Phantom parked diagonally across the street, its license plate boasting the number 99999.

She knew it all too well.

Just as they were puzzling over why Lysander's car was parked there, the rear door swung open, and out stepped a striking woman in a cropped pink puffer jacket.

Her long, wavy chestnut hair cascaded messily over her shoulders, her enchanting doe eyes glistening with unshed tears, and her cheeks were flushed even in the biting winter air. Her steps were unsteady, and her jacket hung open, giving her a somewhat disheveled appearance.

Something was definitely off.

Both women recognized her instantly: Giselle, Lysander's old flame from way back. They never expected to run into her like this.

Giselle, sensing their gaze, glanced over and, upon spotting Mila, hastily covered her smudged lips with her hand.

Next, Lysander emerged from the car.

Mila's keen eyes quickly took in his ensemble: he wore a tailored suit, unbuttoned; the white shirt beneath was unbuttoned at the collar and sported a lipstick smear; his lips were a deep red, as though stained by something. His narrow, fox-like eyes gleamed with satisfaction.

Despite the lack of love in their marriage, Mila knew Lysander well enough to recognize he was clearly smitten.

What had happened in that car was obvious.

In the presence of his old flame, he couldn't even wait to get home. Meanwhile, it had been nearly a year since there had been any intimacy between her and Lysander.

Lysander was surprised to see Mila there. Wasn't she supposed to be on a business trip? What was she doing back so soon?

That didn't matter much to him.

But the idea that she had followed him and was taking pictures—that crossed a line.

He considered it an act of defiance.

Believing Mila had purposely followed him, Lysander's expression twisted with disdain. He tapped the half-open window of the driver's seat, giving a curt order, "Deal with it."

He couldn't be bothered to handle it himself.

"Yes, sir."

The driver, a young man with a stern demeanor, nodded and stepped out of the car, striding purposefully toward Mila.