Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 219

Briony often thought back to five years ago, when she’d walked straight into Stewart’s den of wolves. Maybe she’d done it because the circumstances forced her hand, maybe Stewart had orchestrated everything too perfectly, or maybe she’d simply been too young and naive, swept up by her own foolish crush. Probably, it was a mix of all those things.

Even now, after everything, she could look at her marriage to Stewart—however much she’d been hurt or doubted—and still say with a clear conscience that she’d done nothing wrong.

But if, today, she let herself agree to Garry’s terms just to get a divorce from Stewart—even knowing full well that Garry’s intentions were far from pure—well, then she really would have lost her mind.

With that thought, Briony let out a cold laugh. “Garry, have you ever considered another possibility?”

Garry raised his eyebrows, making an inviting gesture. “Ms. Kensington, by all means, speak your mind.”

“Between spending a lifetime in a loveless, empty marriage with Stewart and dealing with you, I’d much rather avoid you altogether.”

As soon as she finished speaking, Briony turned on her heel and walked away without a backward glance.

Garry watched her slim figure recede into the distance.

After a long moment, the corners of his lips curled in a chilly smirk. “Stewart, you’re going to fall at her hands sooner or later.”

–

After Irwin’s condition finally stabilized, Stewart brought him home to Southcreek Manor.

Once he’d soothed Irwin to sleep, Stewart headed downstairs.

Ever since Briony had moved out, the manor felt emptier than ever. Only a housekeeper came by each day to clean—otherwise, there was no trace of life in the place anymore.

Stewart paused in the living room, sat down on the couch, and pressed his fingers to his temples.

Just then, Carl walked in from outside. “Mr. Wentworth, we’ve got news about Ms. Kensington’s attack.”

Stewart’s posture tensed. “Go on.”

“Our people spotted Neal abroad, but he’s slippery—they lost him. However, they did manage to find a phone Neal dropped.”

Carl pulled out a phone and opened the photo gallery. “There was only one number in Neal’s contact log—a local number. We’ve checked; it’s a burner, no registration. No one picks up when we call.”

Stewart glanced at the number, his voice turning icy. “Keep digging into it.”

“Yes, sir.”

“Give me the car keys,” Stewart said, rising to his feet. “I need you here to look after Irwin. I’m heading to Lunar Heights Estate.”

“Understood.” Carl handed over the keys.

“And start looking for a new live-in housekeeper. Also, find an experienced childminder with a strong educational background. Salary isn’t an issue.”

Carl nodded. “I’ll get on it right away.”

…

Lunar Heights Estate.

The private investigator had sent over a few photos and a video.

Rosita opened them, scanning through, just as her phone rang.

She answered.