Who's Crying Now, Ex-Husband? novel Chapter 575

The lawn was alive with laughter and conversation.

Despite a few hiccups, the engagement party was finally underway. Once the toasts were mostly done, Mila told the guests to make themselves at home—eat, drink, play, and relax as they pleased. After all, the whole resort was booked out for a month. Even after today, she and Forrest would be staying on for a while, so it made sense to let everyone enjoy themselves now.

Mila leaned over to Forrest, murmured a few words, then slipped away toward the back of the estate, planning to catch her breath and change into something more comfortable before rejoining the festivities.

She’d made it halfway down the hall when someone called her name.

Howard hurried up, looking pale. He lowered his voice. “Ms. Sutherland, there’s a problem. Mrs. Montgomery… she’s gone. Mr. Sutherland took Mr. Montgomery to the security room to check the cameras.”

Mila froze.

She blinked, trying to process the words. Had she misheard? Who was missing?

Mrs. Montgomery.

Felicity?

…

“Mmm… That smell… roses?”

The sun was setting, painting the resort grounds in warm amber. Felicity wandered among the deep green trees at the edge of the property, eyelashes fluttering as she followed the faint scent she’d caught earlier on the lawn.

It was a strange, lovely fragrance.

Like roses.

Felicity knew that scent well.

Not long ago, Mila had gifted her a special bottle of rose perfume. She’d adored it, used it often, even tried to mix her own version, but she could never quite capture the same note. Later, she’d called Mila and learned that the perfume’s roses were a rare variety, created by the perfumer’s mentor through years of cultivation. No wonder she couldn’t replicate it.

Her own garden roses just weren’t the same.

She’d given up the idea of recreating the scent, and the little bottle was nearly empty now.

She never expected to stumble across that fragrance today—here, of all places. Not exactly the same, but close. Her nose was sharp; this wasn’t the same perfume, but she was certain it was the same kind of rose.

Curious, she followed the scent as it wound deeper into the woods behind the resort.

What kind of rose was it, anyway?

Her thoughts danced as she gently lifted her white skirt, stepping lightly through shadowed trees. She passed through the dusk and into a wooden, gabled cottage tucked at the forest’s edge.

She stepped inside and stopped, startled.

From the outside, the building looked old-fashioned, almost like a country chapel. Inside, it was hollowed out—two stories open to the peaked roof, empty save for a pair of stained-glass windows set into the wall. The fading sun blazed through them, scattering red and gold light across the bare floor, filling the space with a surreal, jewel-toned glow.

Standing beneath the windows was a man.

She could only see his back.

He wore his hair long, brushing his shoulders in tawny, golden waves.