Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

After Lauren Lynn finally coaxed Irwin Wentworth to sleep, she made her way downstairs.

Stewart Wentworth had already left. On the living room sofa, Rosita Lockwood sat alone, her soft sobs barely audible in the quiet house.

Lauren frowned and hurried over.

"Rosita, what's wrong?" she asked, sitting down beside her. "Why are you crying? Where's Stewart? Did you two have a fight?"

Rosita shook her head.

"Then what are you upset about?” Lauren pulled a few tissues from the box and gently wiped away her tears. "Weren't you two just picking out wedding invitations? That's supposed to be a happy thing. So why the tears?"

"Mom..." Rosita suddenly threw her arms around Lauren, clinging to her. "I just feel like Stewart doesn't love me the way he used to."

Lauren froze for a second. "Don't be silly. You're about to get married! Stop letting your imagination run wild."

"I'm not imagining things," Rosita sniffled, her voice trembling with a mix of hurt and helplessness. "He's always so busy lately. Even when he's home, he seems distracted, like his mind is somewhere else."

But beneath that pitiful exterior-where Lauren couldn't see-Rosita's eyes gleamed with calculation and bitter resentment.

"Mom, I lost my memory. There's so much I can't recall. But I heard Irwin mention

Ms. Kensington and Stewart were secretly married

I'm the only one he loves, but

hesitated, voice dropping to a whisper. "Mom, do you think Stewart might be falling for Ms.

chill run

finally happening-the thing she'd

are ruled by

be loyal, to love just one woman for life?

to think all her success and luxury came from never believing in the promises of love. Back when she tangled with Malcolm Kensington, it was his ability and the Kensington

hadn't died, the Kensingtons would be even more influential today,

in Northborough, but in their eyes, she'd always be the woman who married in with a daughter from another man. The family

status in the Lockwood household

would make Lauren the mother-in-law of Stewart, the heir to Northborough's richest family. She'd finally have the social standing she craved— no

go off without

could not be

motherly, even as these ruthless calculations spun

but her eyes flashing cold. "Don't worry, Rosita. I won't let anyone come between you and Stewart. I promise you'll have the

replied, her own gaze turning