Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 7

Over the years, having witnessed the fickleness of people and the cold warmth of the world, Briony had come to understand a simple truth: human nature was unpredictable, and hearts were impossible to read. Only money and her career were things she could truly rely on—things she could grasp through her own hard work.

Five years ago, she’d given up a coveted opportunity—her mentor’s recommendation for further study—just to stay in Northborough and care for Irwin. Her mentor, furious at her decision, had cut off all contact.

It was still Briony’s greatest regret.

She’d always felt she’d let her mentor down, wasted the years of patience and guidance. So for the past five years, she’d continued to study and improve herself in every spare moment, buying books and materials to keep learning and growing.

After college, she’d taken out a loan to open her own studio.

Now, the studio was finally thriving. Her projects paid more and more each month, and her personal savings were enough to guarantee both her and her mother a secure future.

In truth, everything seemed to be moving in the right direction.

As for those people she could never hold on to, she’d learned to let them go. Perhaps that was what it meant to grow up.

Finishing up the last bit of restoration work for the night, Briony carefully placed the artifact back in its container.

Returning to her office, she poured herself a cup of warm water and drank it in one go.

Setting the cup down, her eyes drifted to the calendar on her desk. She picked up a pen and drew a firm X over today’s date.

Only eight days left. Eight days until her mother was released.

The forecast said it would be a clear, sunny day.

Bzz-bzz—

Her phone vibrated in her pocket.

It was Stewart calling.

Briony frowned, took a steadying breath, and answered.

“When are you coming home?” Stewart’s deep voice rumbled through the receiver.

Briony glanced at the clock. Two in the morning.

She was exhausted and had no desire to drive half an hour back in the dead of night.

Rubbing the stiffness from her neck, she spoke coolly, “What is it?”

“Irwin’s waiting for you. He wants you to read him a bedtime story.”

Briony’s hand paused, still at her neck.