Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 227

The heavy rain had delayed all departures, and Briony’s flight was no exception.

She’d booked a first-class ticket, so she waited out the storm in the airport’s VIP lounge.

To pass the time, Briony picked up a magazine from a nearby table and began flipping through it absently.

Suddenly, the polished toes of a pair of black dress shoes stopped right in front of her.

Puzzled, Briony looked up—and found herself staring into Stewart’s dark, inscrutable eyes.

Her lips pressed together, and her brow furrowed, almost instinctively.

A faint, knowing smile played at the corner of Stewart’s mouth. “Heading to Silveridge too?” he asked.

Briony felt a vague but unmistakable sense of foreboding settle in her chest.

“Judging by your face, I got it right,” Stewart said, his voice low and even. “I’m on my way to Silveridge as well.”

Briony said nothing.

He glanced at the empty seat beside her and, without the slightest hesitation, sat down.

“Are you going for the Antiquarian Society’s documentary shoot?” he asked.

“That’s none of your business,” Briony replied coolly, barely giving him a glance before returning to her magazine.

After what had happened last time at City Hall—the way Stewart had played her for a fool—she saw no reason to pretend civility anymore.

This man was selfish and manipulative, always looking out for himself, always finding new ways to use her. If that was the case, why should she bother maintaining appearances?

But she had underestimated Stewart.

No matter how openly she displayed her disgust, he seemed completely unfazed.

“This documentary will also cover some legal issues about protecting cultural artifacts,” he continued, as if her rudeness didn’t register. “So I’ll be participating in a few segments.”

Briony’s lips tightened with impatience. She didn’t want to hear any of this.

Stewart’s dark eyes lingered on her cold profile, his mouth curving just slightly. “You really don’t want to talk to me at all, do you?”

“It’s not that I don’t want to talk to you,” she said, finally lifting her head and taking a steadying breath. Her eyes, icy and bright, locked onto his. “If you want to discuss when we’re signing the divorce papers, I’d be more than happy to have that conversation.”

Stewart raised an eyebrow. “Let’s save that for after we get back from Silveridge.”

She’d expected as much. It wouldn’t be the first time he dodged the issue; she wasn’t about to be fooled by him again.

“Calling you ‘despicable’ is practically a compliment,” Briony said, her tone flat.

Stewart said nothing, his gaze fixed unwaveringly on her.

She hadn’t expected him to act like a normal person. Rolling her eyes, she turned away and focused on her phone instead.

A message popped up from James: The rain’s really coming down out there. Has your flight been delayed?

Briony typed back a quick “Yes.”

Moments later, James’s name flashed on her screen. She answered and walked over to the floor-to-ceiling windows.

“Any idea when you’ll take off?” he asked.

She felt instantly lighter, settling into her seat and sipping her drink, enjoying the rare moment of peace.

Not long after she finished her milk, an airport staff member approached to let her know it was time to board.

On the plane, Briony glanced at the seat beside hers—and there was Stewart, once again.

Suppressing a sigh, she sat down and ignored him completely. Stewart barely glanced her way before returning to whatever was on his phone.

Briony asked a flight attendant for a small blanket, then sent a message to Stella before takeoff.

Briony: [I checked the weather—it’s supposed to rain all week. Please be careful!]

Stella: [Don’t worry! A few of us have done this two or three times already. They always send us this time of year. It’s just damp, nothing dangerous.]

Briony felt a little more at ease.

The announcement came over the speakers: please switch your phones to airplane mode.

Briony did as instructed, slipped her phone into her bag, and fastened her seatbelt.

As the plane taxied and then climbed into the sky, she settled in, pulling on her sleep mask and wrapping herself in the blanket, turning her back to Stewart.

Sleep came fitfully. Her dreams were a jumble of flashing images, none of them clear enough to grasp.

She woke with a start—the plane was shuddering violently.

Briony yanked off her sleep mask.

“Hey, it’s okay.” Stewart’s low voice was surprisingly gentle as his large hand closed over hers, steadying her grip on the armrest.