Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Four Years Later

Summer nights in Northborough stretched on and on, the velvet darkness stitched with scattered stars.

At the Northborough International Convention Center, a charity auction was in full swing.

"And next up for bidding, we have a rare porcelain bowl from the late

Renaissance period, restored just two years ago by Ms. Leilani. The craftsmanship is remarkable, and it took her over a year to bring it back to life. Tonight, she's generously put it up for auction, with all proceeds going to our charity event. Bidding starts at three million."

A paddle shot up from the crowd. "Five million!"

Heads turned in unison.

It was Pandora, the poised secretary, holding the paddle. Seated beside her was none other than Garry, the legendary magnate from the Westenmar Foundation.

Everyone in the room knew Garry's reputation: an influential philanthropist with a particular fondness for antiques. Over the years, he'd made substantial contributions to heritage preservation, both at home and abroad.

When Garry set his sights on something, few dared to compete.

The room collectively assumed the porcelain bowl was as good as his.

"Eight million!" came a sudden call.

A ripple of surprise swept through the hall; such a bold jump in price was rare.

Clearly, someone intended to go head-to-head with Garry tonight.

All eyes zeroed in on the challenger.

It was Carl holding the paddle, seated beside Stewart.

Who in Northborough didn't know Stewart? The city's undefeated legal powerhouse, who'd taken the reins of The Wentworth Group just two years prior. Under his leadership, the company had surged ahead, dominating the green energy and technology sectors, ushering in a new era for the Wentworth empire.

A man who commanded both the political and business arenas-mention Stewart's name in any elite circle, and even the most seasoned players would hesitate.

The stage was set: Northborough's "devil in a suit" squaring off against Westenmar's titan.

This was going to be a show.

turned, sizing

the attention, looked over, their gazes locking

slow smirk curled Garry's

the paddle.

million! Mr. Ferguson bids ten million! Mr. Wentworth, would you

Stewart glanced at Carl.

nodded, raising the paddle again.

his gavel. "Twenty million! Mr. Wentworth bids twenty million! Will Mr.

grinned at Stewart, as if they were simply old friends chatting. "Since when did you develop an interest

expression unreadable. "It caught

"And I don't see a reason to

the gentleman, huh?" Garry's smile widened. "Well,

then I'll

the

Jacques, the host and director of the auction house, personally came over

thank you so much for supporting

shook his hand, his voice low and steady. "Ms. Leilani's dedication to charity is admirable. I've heard a lot about her over

To be honest, despite working with Ms. Leilani on several occasions, I've never actually

eyes narrowed slightly, but he didn't

auction house,

the streetlights, dressed in an iron-grey suit, a cigar balanced between his

gone to

smoke, a

been four years and you're still chasing

remained icy, his gaze unwavering. "Garry, I suppose

reminding the three-year

an eyebrow. "That's right, this is the

some good

Stewart frowned. "To Rosita?"

"That's right.

scoff escaped Stewart. "Is this your new

next week-I'll

Stewart's eyes narrowed.

said his piece, Garry turned and strolled over

slid inside without a backward glance,

glided away,