Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 225

Rosita’s tears slipped down her cheeks as she tilted her chin up, gazing at Quentin with a plaintive, fragile look. “You’re the only one who can help me now,” she pleaded.

Quentin’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he locked his deep brown eyes on Rosita’s tear-reddened ones. “What do you want me to do?”

“Briony’s taken Stewart from me… and now she’s after my son, too…”

Rosita’s voice was meek, almost innocent, but her words dripped with venom.

“I know I can’t outmaneuver her, but I can’t just let it go. She stole the most important people in my life—so I want her to feel my pain. I want everyone she cares about to leave her, one by one. I want her to know what it feels like to be utterly alone.”

Quentin frowned. “The only people she truly relies on now are Stella and James. James has government connections and an influential family—you can’t touch him.”

He paused, then added, “Stella’s been spending time with Cedric Clarke lately. If I go after her, Cedric will do whatever it takes to protect her. I don’t think I could get past him.”

“I know, I know I’m asking a lot…” Rosita shifted, climbing onto the hospital bed on her knees. Her delicate body inched closer, her voice trembling. “But… what if it looked like an accident?”

“What are you saying?”

“I heard there’s a medical outreach trip to the mountains next month—Stella’s on the team, isn’t she?”

“That’s meant to boost the hospital’s reputation. If something happened to a staff member during the trip, it’d be a disaster for us. And Cedric Clarke is going to be there too.”

“But it’s the rainy season, the terrain up there is dangerous. If there’s a storm and someone gets hurt… well, wouldn’t that just be an unfortunate accident?”

Rosita leaned in, her tearful eyes wide with helplessness. “You’ve always said you wanted to see me happy, haven’t you?”

As she spoke, her breath danced across Quentin’s neck. He clenched his jaw, took a step back, fighting to keep control. “Rosita, you don’t have to do this. I do want you to be happy, but… I don’t have feelings for you like that.”

Rosita’s lips curled into a smile. She didn’t press her body fully against his, but the space between them was barely more than a breath.

“I know,” she purred, her eyes glinting slyly—like a fox who knew exactly how to ensnare its prey. “But you’ve always looked out for me, cared for me. Shouldn’t I give you something in return… make you happy, even just for a little while?”

Her slender fingers traced down Quentin’s chest, slipping lower to the waistband of his trousers, drawing slow, deliberate circles.

Quentin’s breathing grew ragged.

Click—

The belt buckle came undone.

He stiffened, eyes closing in surrender.

Rosita watched him, a flicker of disgust passing through her gaze.

...

Half an hour later, the hospital room door opened.

Quentin stepped out, perfectly composed in his suit, pulling the door shut behind him. He glanced around the hallway, face unreadable—though a shadow of what just happened still lingered in his eyes.

After a moment, he walked away.

Inside, Rosita went straight to the bathroom. She turned on the tap and scrubbed her hands over and over beneath the running water.

The sound of water echoed in the room.

Rosita looked up. In the mirror, her lips curved into a faint smile, but her eyes were cold and murderous.