Regretting the Wife He Threw Away novel Chapter 75

Briony couldn't be bothered to argue with them any longer. She’d come here fully prepared for whatever might happen.

As for Stewart… If she was still harboring even a shred of hope for him at this point, that would be truly pathetic.

With that in mind, Briony spoke, her voice icy: “I’ll pay for Mack’s bone marrow. Name your price.”

“Name a price?” Madeline scoffed, her lips curling in disdain. “The Kensington family hardly needs your money, Briony! If you want to save that wretched woman, fine—but first, you’ll get on your knees and beg my son for forgiveness!”

At her words, Mack stepped forward, clutching Malcolm’s framed portrait in his arms. He stood on the steps, looming over Briony, looking down with a smug authority.

“Briony, you want my help?” Mack sneered. “Get down on your knees and bow to my father’s picture. One hundred times. And for each one, you say, ‘I’m sorry, I was wrong.’ Do that, and I’ll donate my bone marrow to your criminal of a mother.”

Briony’s eyes flicked to Malcolm’s portrait, her brow furrowing. She turned back to Mack. “You swear you’ll keep your word?”

“Of course!” Mack’s eyes gleamed with the thrill of tormenting her. “Well? What are you waiting for, Briony? Get down and start begging!”

But Briony stood her ground, unmoved.

Mack’s expression twisted with frustration. He thrust the portrait toward her. “What’s wrong, Briony? Not willing? Look! Who’s this? It’s your father—your own flesh and blood! Now, in front of him, you’re begging me to save the woman who killed him. And that’s your attitude? Don’t you think you should show a little sincerity?”

Briony stared at the portrait, and for one chilling moment, Mack’s face seemed to blend with Malcolm’s. The cruelty—it really did run in their blood.

Her heart was numb, emptied of any feeling for Malcolm, for Mack, for Madeline, or for anything the Kensingtons had ever done. Disgust had hollowed her out long ago.

When facing them, she realized, there was no point thinking of them as people. It was better to treat them as rabid animals, ready to bite at any moment.

“Mack.” She lifted her gaze and looked at him as if he were nothing more than a piece of furniture. “I’ll kneel. I’ll apologize. But do you dare swear, here and now, in front of Malcolm’s portrait, that if you break your word, you’ll suffer for it?”