Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 230

Gwendolyn White could tell from Carney’s expression that things with Stewart at the airport hadn’t gone well.

In front of Briony, though, she acted as if nothing had happened.

Once they were back home, Gwendolyn asked the housekeeper to make Briony a bowl of noodles and ladled out some nourishing chicken broth for her to have first.

While Briony sipped the soup in the kitchen, Gwendolyn quietly pulled Carney into the bedroom.

“You talked to Stewart at the airport?”

Carney let out a bitter laugh. “The man’s a bully with too much power and far too little shame.”

Gwendolyn frowned. “He’s still refusing to sign the divorce papers?”

He sighed heavily. “Stewart’s a control freak. I told him plainly we want to make Bryn our goddaughter. I even spoke to him as a family elder, but he just put on that fake smile and brushed me off.”

“I saw this coming a long time ago,” Gwendolyn said with a weary sigh. “That’s why I suggested the Chadwicks get in touch with Bryn. Thank goodness she’s strong enough to carve out her own path.”

Carney looked surprised. “So you’d already planned a backup for her?”

“What else did you expect?” Gwendolyn shot him a look. “You’re a man yourself—after all these years, do you still not know your own kind’s weaknesses?”

Carney protested, “Come on, don’t lump me in with the rest. I’m one of the good ones—everyone says so!”

She smacked his arm with a laugh. “Always so glib! Anyway, keep an eye on Stewart these next few days. Don’t let him bother Bryn again. She deserves some peace to finish her work.”

“Aye aye, ma’am!” Carney gave a mock salute.

***

The next day, on set.

They were filming a promotional video for The Antiquarian Society, so appearances mattered.

Briony changed into the outfit the production team provided: a cream-colored dress that flowed to her ankles. Her long dark hair was swept up with a simple hairpin, exposing her graceful neck and accentuating her fair skin.

The makeup artist applied a touch of natural makeup.

When Briony stepped out from behind the screen, everyone fell silent, momentarily stunned.

Off camera, Stewart was talking with Professor Thornton. His gaze flickered when he noticed her, and he narrowed his eyes.

He’d always known Briony was beautiful, but for the past five years, she’d kept her style understated—nothing like the elegance she wore today. For the first time, he saw her fully transformed, as if she’d stepped straight out of a classical painting: slender, poised, with a smile that lit up her eyes and lent her an old-world charm.

Stewart swallowed, his gaze darkening.

Filming a promotional video was no small feat, especially when high production values were required. The camera demanded a certain presence.

It was Briony’s first time in front of the lens, but she exceeded everyone’s expectations.

By noon, she’d wrapped her individual scenes ahead of schedule.

The cinematographer couldn’t help but exclaim, “Ms. Kensington has such screen presence. If she entered show business, she’d be a sensation! She was born for the camera.”

The director and crew all nodded in agreement.

By then, Briony was back in the dressing room, removing her makeup.

Gwendolyn arrived to take her home for lunch and would bring her back in the afternoon.

Stella had been there for six days, and for six days she’d been utterly miserable.

She wasn’t spoiled, exactly, but she’d grown up protected and cared for—she’d never really known hardship.

Here, every meal required firewood, hot water for bathing had to be boiled, and the drafty wooden cabin she slept in offered little privacy or shelter from the wind.

And the outhouse… The stuff of nightmares.

To avoid using it, she’d started drinking as little water as possible.

Finally, she made it to day six—the last day of her “ordeal” was almost here!

But then, Stella became the first in the group to fall ill.

The sky was dark and heavy, rain drumming on the roof as Stella lay shivering on a hard wooden bed, bundled in her sleeping bag, sniffling and feverish.

Cedric Clarke found her burning up with fever.

Outside, the rain was pouring down. Cedric pressed a hand to her forehead, his face tense. “Dr. Joyner, hang in there. I’ll be right back with the med kit.”

Stella managed to open her eyes, vision swimming, just able to make out the tall figure moving away.

After that, she drifted in and out of sleep, lost in fever dreams.

Who knows how much time passed before she felt herself being jostled, carried. Stella forced her eyes open, everything a blur, but she could just make out a man’s silhouette.

“Dr. Clarke?” she murmured.

The man paused but said nothing—he simply hoisted her higher onto his shoulder and carried her out into the night.