Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 384 "Mmm..." Mila stirred, her eyelids fluttering as she slowly woke. She lay on a round bed draped in deep crimson velvet, a black silk comforter tangled around her. She was wearing a white satin nightgown, and as her eyes finally opened, confusion flickered in their depths.

Her head throbbed with pain. For a moment, she couldn't piece together what had happened.

She lay still, trying to gather her thoughts. Where was she? This definitely wasn't a hospital room. No, wait- someone had attacked her.

She shot upright, panic spiking through her body.

Her gaze darted around, scanning for any sign of danger. All she could see were the curtains of deep red velvet hanging around the bed, blocking her view of the rest of the room. Had one of her great-aunt's old enemies kidnapped her and brought her here? It made no sense.

How had they managed to act so quickly? She'd just arrived overseas and had already taken every precaution. None of it added up.

And where exactly was "here"? How was her great-aunt? Had they hurt her, too? Mila forced herself to push down her anxiety. She had no idea what the situation was, so she didn't dare make any sudden moves. Carefully, she slid to the edge of the bed and crept to the side. She gently pulled back a corner of the heavy curtain, peering out through the narrow gap.

Outside the bed curtains, the room glowed with the warm light of old-fashioned lamps. The decor was lavish, almost decadent, with a distinctly Western gothic flair-ornate, dark, and mysterious. The walls were covered in murals of black roses, their thorny stems twisting together, lending the opulent space an eerie, almost menacing beauty.

Mila circled the bed, making sure she was alone. Only then did she step out, her bare feet sinking into a soft rug embroidered with black roses.

Her mind spun with questions and uncertainty.

If this really was an enemy of her great-aunt's, why hadn't they tied her up? Why put her in a room this extravagant-if a little unsettling? What was going on? She didn't have any answers, but sitting here waiting wasn't an option. She crossed to the window and pulled back the heavy black drapes, flooding the room with sunlight.

She unlatched the window and looked outside.

Mila froze, stunned by what she saw.

Brilliant sunlight danced on endless waves. The sea stretched as far as she could see, the salty wind rushing in, carrying the distant cries of seagulls.

Where was she? Heart pounding, she leaned further out the window, craning her neck to see more. She stared, wide-eyed and speechless.

She was in a castle-a real castle, with soaring spires-perched atop a hill in the middle of an island. Below, a dense forest wrapped around the base, and beyond that, the ocean stretched to the horizon.

She was on an island? An island? But where? How far was this from Eldermere? Was she even still in England? A thousand questions raced through her mind. For a long moment, all she could do was stand there in shock. Finally, she gathered herself and strode to the door. She pressed her ear against it, listening for any sound.

Nothing.

She didn't hold out much hope, but she tried the handle anyway.

To her surprise, the door opened effortlessly.

"It's not locked?" she murmured.

She was more confused than ever. What did her captors want? Why bring her here just to leave her unrestrained, as if the sheer isolation of this island fortress was enough to keep her trapped? But if no one was stopping her, there was no way Mila was just going to sit around and wait. She'd always been the type to act first and ask questions later. Without hesitation, she decided to explore.

Whatever happened, she wasn't going to sit here and do nothing.

She stepped out into a long corridor of gray stone, the kind of old-world architecture you'd expect in a centuries- old European castle, the air heavy with the weight of history.

She walked along the hallway, noting the oil portraits that lined the walls. None of them were labeled, but Mila noticed something peculiar: every single portrait was of someone with golden-brown curls and striking green eyes-men and women, their facial features similar, but each dressed in the fashion of a different era. The further she walked, the more recent the portraits became.

She guessed these must be the ancestors of the family who owned this place-a lineage stretching back hundreds, perhaps even a thousand years. Judging by the emphasis on family resemblance and the sheer number of portraits, she suspected they were intensely proud of their bloodline and heritage.

Based on what she knew of Western history, only the most powerful European aristocratic families could have held onto a castle like this through the centuries. She couldn't quite place the country, but judging by the features, they didn't look British.

Maybe Scandinavian? Or Western European, perhaps.

Then, as she reached the end of the corridor, Mila stopped in surprise.

The final portrait was completely different.

It depicted a woman with long, flowing black hair-but her face was left blank, with no features at all. From the style of her dress and the brushwork, it was clear the painting wasn't very old. Why did she have no face? Who was she? Amidst all these green-eyed, golden-haired portraits, why was there a faceless, black-haired woman hanging in such a prominent spot? And stranger still...

Staring at the painting, Mila felt a flicker of recognition-something oddly familiar, even comforting, as if she'd seen this woman before. Maybe even... knew her? She found herself drawn closer, reaching out instinctively. Just as Mila was about to examine the painting more closely, a deep, ragged breath echoed behind her-like the growl of swild animal.

Her skin prickled. She froze.

The breathing grew louder, accompanied by the soft scrape of claws on stone out of the corner of her eye, she caught a flash of tawny-gray fur. Her blood ran cold.

A wolf.

There was a wolf in the castle.

Suddenly, she understood why her room hadn't been locked. If she'ch known there were wolves roaming free, she never would have set foot outside! Who keeps wolves in their house?