Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 434

The next morning, Briony set out early for the Wentworth family cemetery.

The last time she’d visited, the groundskeeper had already known who she was. This time, too, he simply nodded and let her through without a word.

Carrying two large bags, Briony made her way to her son’s grave.

But when she reached the spot, her heart stopped—her son’s headstone was gone.

She was certain this was the right place.

She remembered it so clearly—it was right next to Grandpa Wentworth’s grave.

But now, there was nothing there. No headstone. Not even a mark on the grass.

For a moment, Briony thought maybe she’d gotten it wrong.

Setting her bags down, she pulled out her phone and called Cedric Clarke.

“Dr. Clarke, I’m at the Wentworth family cemetery,” she said.

Cedric sounded startled. “You’re at the family cemetery?”

“Yes,” Briony replied, her voice quiet. “I plan to leave Northborough soon. Before I go, I wanted to visit my son one last time, but…I can’t find his headstone.”

There was a pause on the other end. “Maybe you should call Stewart and ask him directly,” Cedric suggested after a moment.

Briony frowned at the hesitation in his voice. “Alright.”

She hung up and, with a deep breath, pulled Stewart’s number out of her blocked contacts.

The phone rang several times before he finally picked up.

“Bryn,” came his low, tentative voice.

“Stewart,” Briony’s anger simmered beneath the surface, “what happened to my son’s grave?”

There was a long pause.

“Where are you right now?” Stewart asked quietly.

“I’m at the Wentworth cemetery.”

Another silence. Then: “Our son isn’t there.”

Briony’s patience snapped. Her voice shook with rage and grief. “Stewart! Our son is gone, and you’re still playing these games? Why can’t you let him rest in peace?”

Her knuckles whitened around the steering wheel. Twice she nearly ran a red light, but somehow, she made it there in one piece.

Slamming the brakes, she parked outside the gates and hurried inside.

The staff seemed to be expecting her. As she rushed past, they greeted her with respectful “Ma’am,” but Briony couldn’t have cared less about formalities.

She fixed her gaze on one of the maids. “Where’s Stewart?”

“He’s in the study, on the second floor.”

Briony didn’t wait for more. She mounted the stairs two at a time and strode straight to the study, flinging the door open without knocking.

Stewart stood by the window. He turned at the sound, just in time for Briony to slap him hard across the face.

The sharp crack echoed in the room, a red mark instantly blossoming on his cheek.

He didn’t react in anger. Instead, when he saw the tears streaming down Briony’s face, something vulnerable flickered in his dark eyes.

“Bryn, don’t cry. Our son—he’s alright. He’s really alright.”

“Where is he?” Briony’s voice trembled. “Stewart, where did you hide my son?”