Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband?

Chapter 484 "What if he's not dead?" "Who's not dead?" "Who?" For a split second, Mila wondered if she'd misheard. As the words sank in, she couldn't help thinking Eugene had lost his mind.

Her instinct was to refute him-anyone would. But when she opened her mouth, for reasons she couldn't explain, what cout was not a denial but a question. "What... do you mean?" She didn't even know why she asked.

It was almost a reflex-questioning, but not denying.

Eugene said nothing, a heavy silence settling between them, their breathing the only sound echoing down the phone line.

After what felt like ages, she finally heard Eugene's voice again, calm and collected. "It's nothing, Mila. I'm a little out of it today, just talking nonsense. It's a hypothetical. I just wanted to know how you felt about my brother... Never mind. Don't worry about it. I'll call you when I'm in a better state." He rambled through a muddled explanation, then hung up.

Mila didn't stop him. She wanted to-wanted to call out and demand answers- but her throat felt blocked, no sound coming out at all.

Or maybe it was instinct-she was afraid to ask.

She didn't know.

Students streamed past her in the dorm hallway, the air buzzing with chatter and footsteps, but to Mila, the world felt utterly silent. Her hand, still holding the phone pressed to her ear, was frozen in place. It wasn't until a jostling student bumped into her, knocking her phone from her numb fingers, that she snapped out of it.

Before she could bend down to retrieve it, the student who'd bumped her picked it up, handing it back with an apologetic smile. "Sorry about that. Didn't see you there..." Mila took the phone, dazed, not quite sure if she'd heard him or not, shaking her head as if to clear it. She turned away in a fog, nearly walking into a tree by the sidewalk more than once before she finally managed to pull herself together. She realized in this state, there was no way she could drive hsafely.

She'd probably get into an accident.

So she called for a ride.

Waiting beside her car, she couldn't help but replay Eugene's words in her mind. He'd claimed he was speaking nonsense, that she shouldn't take it seriously, but she couldn't let it go. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn't shake the feeling that something was off.

It wasn't the first tshe'd felt this way.

But how could it be possible? He died right in front of her, in her arms.

The images from that night's party replayed in her mind, each detail slowing down: the scattering roses-red and black-the man's body collapsing to the floor, her hands slick with blood... blood everywhere... blood? Mila looked down at her hands, splayed open in her lap, an odd sense of dread swelling inside her, like she was on the verge of piercing sdense fog but couldn't find the way through.

Blood? What about the blood? She was still lost in thought when a familiar voice jolted her back to reality. "Chairman Sutherland?" Startled, she looked up to find Leonard standing in front of her. For a brief moment, she thought she saw concern flicker in his usually emotionless eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it appeared, his face returning to its usual calm detachment.

Mila hardly noticed.

She opened the back door of the car, then paused, turning back, confused. "Why are you here?" She was sure she'd called a driver.

"It's not safe to get rides alone at night," he said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

Mila didn't answer.

She stared at him for a long moment, her grip tightening on the car door handle. After a pause, she got in without another word, her face impassive.

But her mind was in turmoil.

Maybe it was the shock of the call, or maybe it was the overwhelming sense of déjà vu, but she stayed silent the entire ride. Even after she got hand locked the door behind her, her heart was pounding, her blood rushing in her ears.

She went straight to her study.

She rummaged through the shelves in the corner until she found a finely carved wooden box and took out an antique dagger, its hilt studded with emeralds.

A gift from Lysander, back in Rome.

The sharpest blade she owned.

After the events in Rome, she'd locked it away, never expecting to need it again. But now, unsettled and anxious, she wasn't even sure what she was afraid of.

She carried the dagger upstairs and tucked it under her pillow. She was exhausted from everything that had happened, but no matter how hard she tried, she couldn't sleep. She sat on the edge of the bed, staring into space.

Eventually, she texted her hacker friend-the one she'd known for years, whose odd hours meant it was always easier to reach him at night than during the day.

She needed an answer for something she'd asked about before.

Back when Sophia had lost control and attacked someone, Mila hadn't believed Leonard's explanation for the call that stopped her so she'd that quietly asked her friend to investigate. She wanted to know who was behind it.

At the time, it was just a hunch and she hadn't pushed too hard, but now, the more she thought about it, the stranger it seemed. She was done waiting.

Her friend replied almost immediately.

[Whoever's behind it has top-level security and anti-tracing. I can't break through without tipping them off. Do you wantto keep going?] One phone call.

Just one call, and this much effort to cover their tracks? They'd said it was a relative from the Pembroke family, but the Rembrokes weren't involved in government, and it was a private line why would someone goto such lengths to stop Sophia from lashing out?