Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Rosita shook her head gently. "Irwin's still just a child, and honestly, Ms. Kensington has taken wonderful care of him. He's a good-hearted boy, and it's only right that he remembers her kindness."

Lauren's worry only deepened at this. "Rosita, you're too naïve! I know you and Stewart have always had a steady marriage, and that Stewart married her for you and Irwin's sake. But men-well, sometimes they just can't resist temptation. And with your health these days..."

Rosita's expression tightened as she looked at her mother. "Mom, what are you trying to say?"

Lauren let out a sigh, resignation written all over her face. "You've just been sheltered for too long, that's all. Stewart's always protected you. Just be careful, all right?"

Rosita only smiled, reaching out to squeeze Lauren's hand gently as she tried to reassure her. “Don't worry, Mom. I know exactly where I stand with Stewart. I appreciate your concern, truly, but I trust both Stewart and Irwin."

Lauren looked at her daughter, torn between frustration and helplessness at Rosita's innocence. Good thing she'd made her own preparations-otherwise, her position as the future Wentworth family's mother-in-law might not have been so secure!

Lauren kept Rosita company for a little while longer, until she got a call from one of her friends in high society.

She'd made plans with Helga yesterday to go to Felipa's house for a bridge game, and she couldn't possibly miss it.

"Rosita, darling, I promised Helga I'd help with something today, so I have to run. Get plenty of rest and focus on getting better. I'll come by again soon."

nodded warmly. "Of course,

her purse and

soon as the door to the hospital room closed,

picked up her phone, opened her contacts, and, relying on memory,

rang a few times before someone

composure, her words came out choked with emotion. "I'm sorry, I know I shouldn't be bothering you again, but I just don't

...

Northborough International Airport.

behind her, Stella and James sat together in matching outfits-identical sunglasses and

nine o'clock, Stewart arrived, holding Irwin's hand as they made

them, Carl followed dutifully, hauling two

dark blue jeans that emphasized his absurdly long legs; each stride revealed a glimpse of ankle

an upright posture and chiseled, stoic features. He drew more than a few admiring glances from the women passing

sneak photos with their phones; a few younger ones looked like they wanted to strike up a conversation, but as