Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Fred stared at Stewart, thinking to himself, Stewart was only seven back then- what could a seven-year-old possibly understand?

But Fred was wrong.

Not only did Stewart understand, he remembered everything-down to the last detail.

Stewart fixed cold eyes on Fred and spoke, his voice icy: "A week before your supposed death in that plane crash, someone doctored the accounts at Wentworth Group. Fred, you were the one who quietly transferred the company's liquid assets to a Swiss bank account."

"That's a lie!" Fred's pupils shrank. He snapped, "Stewart, you'll say anything to keep me from going back to the Wentworth Group, won't you? But do you really think everyone's that gullible? Do you think they'll just take your word for it? The turmoil at Wentworth Group was all because of Fiona and her brother's scheming! If you want to blame someone, blame that vicious woman, Fiona!"

"If you don't want anyone to find out, don't do it in the first place." Stewart's glare was frigid, his voice filled with disgust. "You gutted the Wentworth Group, then faked your death and spent those years in Switzerland with Malvina, living like a king. Did you ever stop to think the money would run out someday?"

"And when it did, and Malvina fell ill, you came crawling back to me for help. She was your mistress, Fred. Why should I bail you out?" Stewart sneered. “Do you take me for some kind of fool?"

Fred's face darkened to the color of thunder. "Just how much have you found out?!"

"I know everything you did." Stewart smiled coolly. "Would you like me to list each and every crime, one by one?"

Fred glared at Stewart, his gaze sharp and venomous.

Stewart went on, "Why did my grandfather die of a sudden heart attack when I was five? Are you sure it was Fiona who set you up? Did Malvina really die of cancer? And now you've come back to seize the Wentworth Group are you really doing it for Ferdinand?"

"Enough!" Fred roared, lunging across the space and grabbing Stewart by the collar in a fit of rage.

is Ferdinand. You're nothing but a

Fred with a blank

man and more like a monster-twisted by

could fail to love

a cold, contemptuous smile.

long, had

hoping for anything from this

xet

gripped Fred's wrist, squeezing hard. Fred howled

y from Stewart's collant

him aside, straightened his clothes, and looked at Fred as

if you want the Wentworth Group,

that, Stewart picked a pen

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into the

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