Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 418 "What on earth are you doing?!" Seated at a patable overlooking the ocean, Mila glared at Lysander, her voice sharp with indignation as she jabbed a finger at the delicate white lemon blossoms now tangled in her hair.

She had no idea what kind of nonsense had gotten into him this time.

After the sea breeze whisked the first blossom from her hair, he'd stood frozen for a moment. Then, like a man possessed, he'd marched over to the blossoming lemon tree nearby and practically stripped it bare, crowning her head with handfuls of flowers until she was absolutely covered. It was so absurd, she couldn't even process it.

Honestly.

Who could follow the logic of a madman? The real shwas the lemon tree itself-healthy and in full bloom, now missing half its flowers. There'd be hardly any fruit left at this rate.

He really was impossible.

Lysander, meanwhile, looked exceedingly pleased with himself.

In good spirits, he called over the restaurant owner and asked about the lemon tree. Upon learning it belonged to the owner, Lysander apologized sincerely, quickly estimating the price of the fruit and the value of the tree. Despite the owner's protests, he insisted on paying six times the amount.

Left with no choice, the owner relented. "In that case, may I have your address? I'll send sworkers to dig up the tree and deliver it to you." Lysander shook his head.

"No, leave it here. Just take good care of it for me. As far as I'm concerned, it's still your lemon tree." The owner fell silent.

Mila was even more speechless. Seriously-was he crazy? In the end, unable to refuse the generous guest, the owner insisted on personally preparing an authentic Italian feast for them-on the house.

It was almost dinnertanyway, so they accepted.

So, with her hair still crowned with lemon blossoms, Mila picked up her fork and knife and stabbed into the lobster pasta freshly set in front of her, her disgruntled expression melting away at the first bite.

It was delicious.

No wonder the owner had seemed so confident in his cooking.

She was just about to dig in for another mouthful when, to her dismay, Lysander whisked her plate away and replaced it with a plain salad. Ignoring her glare, he simply remarked, "You're still recovering. Go easy on the seafood." Then, right in front of her, he finished off the rest of the lobster.

She gripped her utensils tightly. Yes, she was still healing.

She let it slide.

Next cthe crab. She managed a single bite before Lysander ate the rest, grinning at her all the while.

She endured it.

Being by the sea, the menu was mostly seafood. Course after course, Mila found herself limited to just a taste of each dish, Lysander polishing off the rest. When all was said and done, she'd eaten little more than a plateful of salad. She was beginning to feel downright depressed.

The owner returned with his homemade limoncello, pouring the golden liqueur into their glasses. The sunlight cast a warm glow through the liquid, making everything look even more beautiful.

It was then Mila learned the town was famous for its lemons-world-renowned, in fact.

Once the chatty owner was called away to another table, Mila lifted her glass, inhaled the sweet, intense aroma, and took a sip. It was a dessert wine, bright and refreshing.

She'd barely tasted it when her glass was suddenly empty.

Looking up, she saw Lysander, glass tipped back, calmly dabbing his lips with a napkin. "You're still recovering. No alcohol." That was the last straw.

She shot to her feet and grabbed him by the collar, her patience finally snapping. She was furious.

After everything they'd been through escaping from that old manor, she'd developed a real aversion to having her food snatched away at dinner.

That night, Mila learned that flights out weren't available until morning, so they'd be staying in Naples for the night and heading to Rome-their final destination- the next day.

They checked into a luxury suite at a hotel on the island.

As soon as Mila stepped inside, she slammed the door behind her and locked it, startling Francis, who was lounging in the living room. He glanced at the closed door and then at Lysander, who'd been left in the hallway. "What was that about? She's furious." "Probably just hungry," Lysander replied with a wry smile.

Francis rolled his eyes. "Seriously? You said you'd meetlater, then vanished. You ignored my calls and just took off on your honeymoon? What kind of friend ditches his buddy like that?" "You managed fine on your own," Lysander said, clapping him on the shoulder. "Oh, spare me."

Francis's temper flared. "Do you even remember what we're here for? We ruined that old witch's wedding-who knows what she'll do next. She'im at she'll do cafter us after us, it's only a matter of time, and you're off playing newlyweds! You get a honeymoon while I do all the work? No way, tomorrow we're switching places!" Lysander smacked him lightly. "Switch? You looking for trouble?" "Unbelievable!"

Francis was getting worked up. "You know what I mean-tomorrow you deal with the mess, and I'm hitting' the bars. I've waited long enough... Hold on, did you have a drink? You sneak off and drink without me, but I'm not allowed?" Sfriend he was.

Francis was ready to make a scene. Maybe even call it quits.

"You're not me," Lysander retorted. "You can't hold your liquor, you know you always mess things up. This is not the time-stay focused, and don't letcatch you drinking." "I do not mess things up. Alcohol is the nectar of life, you know. If I don't have a drink soon, I'll die... You heartless bastard..." Lysander just sighed.

Grabbing the still-grumbling Francis, he pulled him out onto the balcony, shutting the sliding glass door t behind them. He glanced at Mila's firmly closed bedroom door, then spoke in a low voice. "Enough. Let's talk business." "Fine, you jerk," Francis muttered, raking a hand through his wild red hair. "I'm listening." Lysander leaned against the balcony railing, his gaze shifting to the horizon, where the sea met the fading sunset. His tone was calm.

"I'm changing the plan." Francis's eyes widened as he realized what Lysander meant. "Are you out of your mind? We've been prepping for this for years. Years, Lysander! You can't just change the plan now. It's too late!"