Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 313

Briony glanced at the clock—already half past nine.

The kids really should be getting to bed.

She walked over, eyeing the three empty bottles of whiskey on the dining table. She wasn't worried about them out of kindness; but if something happened while they were drinking in her house, she'd be the one in trouble.

"Gentlemen, it's getting late. Time to head home," Briony said, her voice crisp and no-nonsense.

At her words, Stewart arched a dark brow, his eyes slightly glazed and tinged red from the alcohol as he looked at Garry. With a faint, teasing smile he said, "Garry, you heard her. Time to go."

"Me?" Garry chuckled. "Stewart, Ms. Kensington isn't just sending me away, you know."

Stewart's lips curled. "We're married—how could she possibly send me away?"

Garry let out a dry laugh and turned to Briony. "Ms. Kensington, do you agree with that?"

Briony had no patience for their drunken banter—especially since both men were clearly three sheets to the wind. She called Carl in directly.

When Carl saw Stewart, he was stunned. After working with Stewart for so many years, he'd never seen him drink this much. Stewart's whole face was flushed red, and the bloodshot look in his eyes was almost alarming.

Carl's gaze flicked to the empty bottles on the table. He sucked in a breath—if anyone with a weaker constitution had drunk this much, they'd be on their way to the ER for a stomach pump.

He walked over to Stewart, bent down, and spoke softly, "Mr. Wentworth, it's late. Let me drive you home?"

Stewart didn't move. He sat tall and still, long fingers idly turning an empty glass. He didn't speak, making it impossible to guess what he was thinking.

Carl was at a loss.

Briony said flatly, "Drag him out if you have to."

Carl hesitated. "...I really can't."

Seeing how unwelcome Stewart was, Garry let out a low laugh. "Stewart, never thought I'd see the day."

Stewart didn't reply, nor did he show any intention of leaving.

Briony closed her eyes, sighed, and gave up on dealing with them. She turned and walked to the living room, where Carol was sitting. "They're both drunk and probably won't be leaving anytime soon. Little Mario's still sick—he can't be staying up late. Do you want me to have a driver take you home, or would you both rather stay the night? There's a guest room upstairs."

Carol hesitated. "Wouldn't it be too much trouble?"

"Not at all. I just need to put on fresh sheets and it's ready."

"Um…"

"Ms. Carol, you and little Mario should stay!" Little Nina chimed in from the side. "Tomorrow's Saturday—I want to play with him!"

Hearing this, little Mario's eyes lit up as well. He hurried over and tugged Carol's hand.