Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 402 Once she sorted out her thoughts, Mila found herself less resistant to the idea of the wedding. The endless sleepless nights finally faded, replaced by a strange calm.

Still, she knew one thing for certain: If she wanted to use this wedding as her escape, she needed to make sure of one detail the ceremony couldn't be held in the old manor. It had to be somewhere else, preferably outside.

The next morning, after breakfast, Mila reached out and gently caught hold of Cossio's sleeve just as he was about to leave—a silent plea for him to stay. Lately, maybe because of all the wedding preparations, Coshad taken to disappearing right after breakfast and returning late at night. Mila didn't mind, but today was different. She needed something from him.

He turned, wrapping his hand softly around hers, his tone teasing and affectionate. "Darling, are you going to missif I go?" She said nothing, just tugged gently at his sleeve.

He sighed in mock exasperation, his voice full of indulgence. "You're still as shy as ever, aren't you? Never willing to say you wantto stay. But that's all right-I love you too much to mind." So, he stayed.

Mila immediately let go of his hand. Ever since she'd seen those disturbing paintings in the art studio, she found it impossible to look at Costhe sway. He appeared so polite and restrained, but she knew now just how twisted his mind really was. Even the slightest touch left her uneasy.

Cossio, oblivious, assumed she was simply being bashful and chuckled to himself.

*** Daytime, the garden.

As usual, the housekeeper had set up an easel outside. This time, though, Coswasn't the one painting. Draped in a shimmering golden scarf, Mila stood at the easel.

She lifted the edge of her veil, brush poised in her hand. Today, her colors were nothing like her usual somber palette. Instead, she painted with vivid, lively strokes, quickly capturing a grand, sunlit church rising from a lush green lawn. In one corner of the canvas, a crimson sun glowed bright and pure.

With a few deft lines, she added a bride in a white gown, bouquet in hand, arm-in-arm with a groom in a sharp suit, walking together down a red carpet that led straight to the church doors. The scene was unmistakable-a wedding in full swing.

Suddenly, Mila froze, her gaze fixed on the painted couple. She stared at them, lost in thought.

It hit her: Seven years of marriage, yet she'd never had a wedding of her own. She'd never walked down the aisle in a white dress. All she'd ever had was a flimsy marriage certificate—nothing more. Her whole marriage, from start to finish, had been little more than a careless afterthought.

She forced a brittle smile, dipped her brush in paint, and added a new detail- several ominous black crows swept across the green lawn, circling the bride and groom on the red carpet. In an instant, the bright, sacred wedding scene was shrouded in a thick, heavy gloom.

Black and crimson roses-symbols of corruption-crept along the white church. Holiness and darkness, perfectly entwined.

Setting down her brush, Mila studied her creation-a wedding scene tainted by misfortune and bad omens. She lowered her veil and looked over her shoulder at the silent man standing behind her, her eyes asking a wordless question.

-Well? What do you think? Cosstood still for a moment. Then, without a word, he picked up the brush and began painting over the black crows, transforming each one into a white dove- symbols of peace and blessing.

Beneath her veil, Mila stared at the doves circling the painted church, her lips curling in a silent, mocking smile. So even a man as ruthless and shameless as Cosstill harbored naïve hopes about weddings-hopes for luck, for happiness, for a perfect ending.

But could there really be a happy ending? The wounds ran too deep. The damage was already done. Forgiveness was out of the question.

It was a dead end, and they both knew it.

Suddenly seized by a wild impulse, Mila snatched the brush from his hand, dipped it in scarlet paint, and slashed at the painted bride and groom-driven by a fierce, inexplicable need to sever all ties.

But before she could finish, Cosgrabbed her wrist, stopping her. Only a few drops of red fell onto the bride's dress, the rest of her blow halted.

He tightened his grip, the brush falling to the ground as he pulled her into his arms. She could feel his heart pounding against her back, hear the roughness in his breathing, and sense the tremor in his voice.

"Darling, I've decided," he said quietly. "Let's let the church bear witness to our love-forever." She was silent.

She'd gotten what she wanted, so why did it make her so angry? She wanted to tear the painting to pieces.

***

Painting always left her emotionally offe drained. It took Mila most of the day to recover, but at least she'd accomplished her goal-the wedding would take place in a church on an island.

Maybe she was simply too convincing in her role, or maybe Coswas just too eager for hert cager to play an active par part in their wedding.

Either way, he'd given her full authority over every detail of the ceremony. For the first time, Mila found herself seated in the garden, leafing through a massive wedding planner full of extravagant, opulent ideas. It was all new to her.

It was, after all, an utterly absurd wedding.

Still, she had to admit, the preparations brought a small comfort—at least now she had m someone to talk to in the manor: the wedding planner flown in from outside. "Is this all there is?" she asked, closing the planner after a quick scan. Mila turned to the nervous woman with curly brown hair sitting nearby. "And you are...?" "Lea. My nis Lea, ma'am," the woman answered cautiously.

"Lea, that's a lovely name," Mila said with a smile. "I'm Mila Sutherland. Please, just callMila." Lea shot a quick glance at the butler standing stiffly behind Mila, but when he didn't object, she relaxed a little. "Ms. Sutherland, is there nothing here that you like?"