Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

"Sorry, I didn't think it through. I just assumed that since Stewart stepped in to help at the start, he'd see things through to the end-just the kind of person he

is."

Cedric Clarke paused, then added, "Ms. Kensington, I know you're not the type to interfere in other people's relationships. If anything I've said or done before has offended you, I want to sincerely apologize."

"No need for that, Dr. Clarke," Briony replied with a faint smile. "Stewart and I aren't even friends. I'd appreciate it if you didn't bring him up around me anymore. People might get the wrong idea."

Cedric nodded in agreement. "You're right. I'll keep that in mind from now on."

Just outside the hospital room, the door left slightly ajar, a man peered in through the crack, watching Briony.

Her profile looked almost ghostly pale, a thick bandage wrapped around her forehead-enough to make anyone's heart ache at the sight. But her eyes were calm and distant, and her voice when she spoke was cold, betraying no emotion whatsoever.

Stewart's dark brows knit together as he watched for a moment. Then, suddenly, the corner of his mouth curved into a cold, humorless smile.

After a brief pause, he tore his gaze away and left without another word.

A nurse pushing a cart of supplies passed by, glancing at the trash can beside the corridor-where a perfectly arranged fruit basket sat on top.

"Who on earth would throw away such a beautiful fruit basket?" she wondered aloud.

wrapping, and the fruit

assault against a minor. The victim's parents were immigrant workers; the accused, four local rich kids. Cases like this were always a minefield-class divides and social pressure

few days, Stewart had barely had

Stewart did his best to reassure them, promising he'd do everything possible to win their case, and then asked his assistant

out

to the window and pinching the bridge of his nose. "What is

step in and help Mack. If you're going to do a good deed, might as

narrowing. "You're awfully invested in

Cedric sighed. "Come on, just do me this favor. The Kensingtons

Stewart let out a short, cold laugh. "Did Briony put

this was

rather go begging to the Kensingtons than ask me for help. What makes

a loss

prefers to humiliate herself, why should you play the saint?" Stewart's voice was icy. "If she wants to beg the Kensingtons, let

that, Stewart hung

Since yesterday, there'd been a fire smoldering in his chest that he couldn't name

"Mr. Wentworth?"