Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

The pediatricians did everything they could, and somehow managed to pull Briony's baby girl back from the brink.

But things were still far from hopeful.

No matter what anyone said, Briony insisted on going to the pediatric ward to see her daughter.

Gwendolyn White tried to reason with her. "Even if you go, they won't let you in. Besides, you haven't recovered yet-moving around isn't a good idea."

"I can use a wheelchair," Briony replied, her gaze unwavering as she looked at Gwendolyn. "Godmother, I haven't even seen them with my own eyes since they were born. I can't shake this feeling of unease. Please, just let me see her. Just once."

Gwendolyn's nerves were shot. She forced herself to appear calm, though inside she was anything but.

"Bryn, listen to Mrs. Winslow," James chimed in, trying to help. "I've heard how important it is for women to rest after giving birth. How about this: I'll go to the neonatal ward again and film a few more videos for you, okay?"

Briony's brow furrowed as her eyes flicked between Gwendolyn and James. "Why are you both so intent on keeping me from seeing my children?”

Both of them froze, caught off guard.

"Is there something you're not telling me?" Briony reached for Gwendolyn's hand, her voice tight with worry. "Godmother, please, don't lie to me. Just tell me the truth, I'm begging you."

Gwendolyn's nose stung as tears threatened. She ducked her head, unable to meet Briony's gaze any longer.

Briony's breath caught in her throat. She turned to James. "Mr. Delaney, tell me— my babies are both okay, aren't they?"

James pressed his lips together, his eyes rimmed with red. He wanted to say yes, but the words stuck in his throat and wouldn't come.

From their reactions, Briony began to understand. A suffocating dread closed in on her.

Ignoring the pain from her stitches, she braced herself on the bed and tried to sit up.

her back down. "Don't move-you'll

no strength left. Gwendolyn's hands on her shoulders were enough to pin her

pleading, locked on Gwendolyn's face. "Godmother... you've only shown me photos of my daughter. Is it... is it

Tears streamed down her cheeks as

pupils constricted, her breath

Gwendolyn's hand slackened, then slipped away entirely. She pressed her palm to her chest, mouth working but not

they could. There was nothing more anyone

was vacant, her hand over her heart as silent tears

bear the sight, turning away to wipe

the one who had the most reason to

would make herself sick by bottling it all up, Gwendolyn squeezed her hand, urging her softly, "Bryn, if you need to cry, let

head, blinking her red-rimmed eyes. She looked at Gwendolyn. "Godmother, I never even

Gwendolyn froze.

me see him,"

lips together and turned toward the

had been standing there for some time, neither entering nor

yourself," Gwendolyn said

slow breath, knowing there was no

strode to the bedside, his tall frame casting a shadow over Briony. Their eyes met, and Stewart's Adam's apple bobbed as he spoke, voice low and rough. "While you were unconscious-for those three days I brought our son home to Northborough.

at

in

hadn't even gotten to see her son,

eyes shut, her lips pressed

rising and falling more and more rapidly. "Bryn, whatever you're feeling, say

a sound. Only her tears

let it out.