Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 278

It had been a beautiful night—the kind of night that felt touched by magic. Perhaps that’s why their child chose that moment to arrive.

But Stewart learned about it all far too late.

Was this what people called karma?

Somewhere deep within the hallway of his dream, a voice echoed through the shadows—

“Stewart, you are the most despicable man I’ve ever known.”

“You’ve never once acknowledged the pain you and your family inflicted on me. From the very beginning, you only ever asked yourself two questions: ‘Can I use her?’ and ‘Will she take good care of Irwin?’ This marriage—what you needed wasn’t a wife, but a perfectly placed pawn.”

“In Ghana, there’s a divorce tradition: couples who once loved each other, after everything falls apart, return to the very place they wed, dressed in their wedding clothes. The idea is to go back to where love began and let everything go, ending things together.”

“But Stewart, we never loved each other. We never even had a wedding. So your grand divorce ceremony was doomed to be a farce from the start!”

“From this day on, Stewart, you’re nothing but the executioner who indirectly killed my mother. We’re better off strangers than ever meeting again!”

At the end of the corridor, Briony stood there in a white wedding dress.

He saw her and tried to reach her.

Briony turned away and ran out of the hall—

Stewart chased her all the way to the beach.

A heavy mist rolled in from the sea; Briony stopped, half-shrouded in fog. Her voice was cold and full of anguish—

“Why can’t you ever let me go, Stewart? The ones who gave me life, and the one I gave life to, all gone because of you. And now I’m gone, too. Is this what you wanted?”

“Stewart, if there’s another life after this, I pray I never meet you again!”

As her words faded, flames burst across her wedding dress.

Stewart’s eyes widened in horror. He rushed forward—

But fire consumed Briony and the dress before he could reach her.

“Briony!”

Stewart jolted awake, heart pounding, breath coming in ragged gasps as he stared at the ceiling.

“Mr. Wentworth.” Carl was at his side in an instant. “You’re finally awake.”

Seeing Carl, Stewart’s mind snapped into focus.

It was a dream. Just a dream.

He let out a heavy sigh of relief and slowly pushed himself upright in bed.

Glancing around the unfamiliar hospital room, Stewart pressed a hand to his aching brow. “What happened to me?”

“You collapsed, sir. You started coughing up blood and then slipped into a high fever. You’ve been unconscious for three days and nights.”

Three days and nights?