Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 368 Night had fallen.

Outside a lavishly decorated, brilliantly lit restaurant, an orange Bentley Continental purred to a stop. From it stepped a stunning woman in a fitted emerald velvet dress that shimmered under the lights. The delicate pearl clasps at her collar seemed to glow softly. A white knitted shawl draped over her shoulders, half-concealing her graceful figure. She moved with an effortless poise, every step exuding quiet elegance and wealth.

As she glanced around with a gentle smile, the effect was mesmerizing-like a warm spring breeze drifting through morning mist, leaving onlookers spellbound, as if caught in a dream.

Passersby couldn't help but stare, though none dared to meet her gaze directly. They stole quick glances from the corners of their eyes, their caution explained by the three burly men in dark suits who flanked her: unmistakable bodyguards.

A vision of serene beauty, guarded by intimidating men.

Heads turned. Eyes followed her into the restaurant, accompanied by gentle music. Only after she disappeared inside did the crowd outside burst into hushed excitement- "She's gorgeous-think she's a celebrity?" "Can't be. I'd know if she was famous. There's nobody like that online." "Did she just look at me?" "Dream on, she was looking at me!" "Anyone get a picture?" "...Totally forgot." Mila, of course, was oblivious to the commotion at the door-and even if she'd known, she would have just sighed. She never wanted to draw this much attention, but without her bodyguards, she wouldn't have dared to meet with the Montgomery family.

Not even her own son.

Guided by a staff member, she made her way through the restaurant. From across the room, she heard Adrian's joyful shout: "Mom! Mom, over here!" She looked up, then paused.

Standing beside her son, waving, was a man lounging at the table-elbow propped up, chin resting lazily on his hand, fox-like eyes narrowed in a teasing smile. His gaze lingered on her waist, just a touch too long and just a shade too possessive, making Mila frown in annoyance.

...Thank goodness she'd brought the bodyguards.

"What are you doing here?" Mila's tone was clipped. Hadn't they agreed she'd only have dinner with the child? His smile was easy. "What's wrong with both parents joining their child for dinner? Or are we a single-parent family now?" She fell silent.

"Mom!" Before Mila could say another word, Adrian barreled into her arms, looking up at her with shining eyes, equal parts excited and wounded. "Mom, I missed you so much! I called you a hundred times and you never answered. Dad said you went on holiday. Why didn't you take me?" "Your mother didn't take your father, either,” Lysander interjected smoothly.

"Lysander!" Mila's expression turned frosty. "Aren't we here for dinner? If you're not eating-" He gave a little sigh, lining up the cutlery with deliberate grace. Mila ignored him entirely, steering Adrian to a seat across from Lysander.

Lysander smiled, sliding the utensils toward her.

Mila pushed them away and called over a server to bring a fresh set. She also ordered a table full of food for her three bodyguards at the next table-standing around was drawing enough stares as it was.

Lysander glanced at the trio, lips curling in mild amusement. "Quite the entourage for a simple meal. Anyone who didn't know better might think you were walking into a trap." Mila flashed a chilly smile. "Aren't I?" "If you say so, darling." Surprisingly, Lysander was in an agreeable mood that night. He replied to everything she said without argument and even served food onto her plate himself, though Mila immediately passed every dish to Adrian.

She didn't trust him one bit.

She couldn't figure out what ghe was playing, so she kept her guard up, appetite lost. She busied herself piling food onto Adrian's plate, listening to him chatter about everything he'd seen and done lately-who he'd met, what he'd learned.

Her attention wandered, and her responses grew absentminded. It wasn't long before Adrian noticed and pouted, "Mom, you're just brushingoff!" Mila hesitated, then said quietly, "I'm not, sweetie. I'm just a little tired. I like hearing you talk." "But I want to hear about your trip!" Adrian edged closer, grabbing her hand, his eyes bright with hope. "Did you bringa present? You still oweone, remember?" If she said no, he'd definitely make a scene.

"Next time," Mila murmured.

Adrian's face fell. He yanked his hand from hers, voice rising. "That's what you said last time! Always next time!' Youllied toagain! You toldonly bad kids lie-so you're a bad person!" Several heads turned their way.

Mila, bracing herself for a meltdown, tried to soothe him, but the moment she opened her mouth, Adrian's wailing grew louder.

Her head was pounding when Lysander finally spoke, voice cool and measured. "Adrian." Instantly, Adrian fell silent. He pressed his lips together, eyes brimming with tears, but he didn't dare make another sound. Mila felt a chill settle over her.

It was always the same.

Her son never listened to her. Not just with Lysander-anyone's word seemed to carry more weight than hers. Whenever he acted up, he never cared how she felt.

Then Lysander, face expressionless, spoke again. "If you want something, crying and throwing a fit isn't the way. Is that how I taught you?" "I'm sorry, Dad." "Apologize to your mother." Adrian wanted to protest that it was her fault for lying, but after a moment, he relented and muttered, "...Sorry, Mom." Mila frowned. Something about this felt wrong.

After that, Adrian barely spoke a word. He grew withdrawn and quiet, and Mila's discomfort only grew. Was this really how a father should teach a child? It felt less like parenting and more like... giving orders to a subordinate. Was that how a child should be raised? "Not happy?" Lysander's smooth voice broke into her thoughts.

to Mila's frown eased, but she said nothing. She was certain Lysander was only putting on a show for her benefit to unsettle her, to make her worry. But whatever his motive, one thing was clear: she had no interest in fighting for custody. Her son would never listen to her, and he'd never choose to go with her.