Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

A faint sound of running water echoed through the phone.

Briony's breath hitched, but she forced herself to stay calm. "Irwin's fever still hasn't broken. The tests say he has acute bronchitis and pneumonia-he needs to be admitted for IV treatment."

Rosita's voice instantly tightened with worry. "How could this happen? Wasn't he perfectly fine when Stewart dropped him off this morning?"

The accusatory tone made Briony's brow furrow. "Ms. Lockwood, I have to remind you—Irwin's health is fragile. He has a long list of dietary restrictions."

With that, Briony ended the call.

She clenched her phone and glanced at Irwin, who lay on the hospital bed, sweating and restless even as he slept. A burning frustration twisted in her chest, making it hard to breathe.

A nurse came in and started Irwin's IV.

After about fifteen minutes, Irwin began to sweat, and his fever finally started to subside.

Just then, the door to the room swung open.

Stewart and Rosita hurried inside.

"Irwin!"

streaming as she saw her son

cheek and called gently,

awake, and when he saw

face, voice thick with emotion. "Don't be afraid, sweetheart. I'm

"Mom, don't go...'

harder, her love and worry

and he slipped back into

uncontrollably, as if

his pocket and handing it to

all my fault. If I hadn't had

things like that." Stewart wrapped one strong arm around her

murmured soothing words, comforting her the

bed, watching everything unfold. Pain pricked at her

had no reason to stay any

the corner, she nearly collided with Fiona, who was striding down the hallway with a