Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 404

Once inside, she realized Stewart wasn't downstairs.

"Irwin, go up to your room and start your homework."

"Okay." Irwin trudged up the stairs, backpack slung over his shoulder, clearly in a foul mood.

Jeannie, on the other hand, was practically buzzing with excitement. She hurried back to her room to touch up her makeup and spritzed herself with perfume before stepping out again.

As she left her room, Stewart emerged from his study at the same moment.

"Mr. Wentworth," Jeannie called, walking over with a bright smile. "Just finished working?"

The moment she approached, a wave of overpowering floral fragrance hit him.

Stewart's eyebrows knit together, and his voice stayed cool. "Where's Irwin?"

Jeannie answered sweetly, "He's in his room, working on his homework!"

Without another word, Stewart headed straight for Irwin's room.

Jeannie, unwilling to give up so easily, trailed behind.

Stewart paused outside Irwin's door, glancing back at her. "I haven't had dinner yet. Could you go downstairs and make me some pasta? Something light."

"Of course!" Jeannie replied, her heart fluttering as she turned and hurried down the stairs.

Stewart watched her go, his gaze growing distant and troubled.

Then he opened the door and stepped inside.

Irwin wasn't doing homework at all. He was slumped over his desk, quietly crying.

"Irwin?"

Stewart crossed the room and gently patted his head. "Why are you crying?"

Irwin jumped, startled, and scrambled to his feet. "I—I'm fine…"

Stewart paused, studying the boy's anxious face, his eyes narrowing slightly. "Did something happen? Is someone giving you a hard time?"

Irwin's gaze darted away. "No… nothing…"

"If something's wrong, you have to tell Dad."

Wiping his tears away with his sleeve, Irwin looked up at Stewart, voice barely above a whisper. "Dad, will you always treat me like this? Just like you do now?"

Three days later, early in the morning, Jeannie was driving Irwin to school. On her way home, as she waited at a traffic light, a cement mixer with failed brakes slammed into the back of her car.

The impact was violent. Flames erupted instantly.

Inside, Jeannie's head was bleeding. Dazed and barely conscious, she tried to open the door—only to find it jammed.

The fire spread fast. Agonizing heat seared her skin, and panic surged as she pounded the window, screaming for help.

Traffic backed up immediately, and her luxury car was quickly engulfed by the flames.

Some bystanders called for an ambulance; others dialed 911. A few rushed forward with fire extinguishers, desperate to help.

—

Somehow, during the ambulance ride to the hospital, Jeannie vanished.

Word of the accident reached Stewart that evening.

Before he could react, his phone rang. It was Garry, and his voice was grave.

"I called because I want to discuss a business proposal."