Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Southern Vale Airport.

A private yacht was moored at the dock.

The captain warned that the sea was rough today, so they'd be moving slowly-it would take around four hours to reach Sapphire Shores.

Briony Kensington's head throbbed dully. As soon as she boarded the yacht, she found a quiet room and went straight to bed.

Stewart Wentworth, knowing she was unwell, asked one of the stewardesses to bring Briony some motion sickness pills.

Briony didn't protest. She swallowed the pills and collapsed onto the bed.

The wind was fierce, and the yacht rocked and pitched as it cut across the waves.

Briony hadn't slept well last night, and lying down didn't do much to ease her discomfort.

Eventually, the medicine began to work; she drifted in and out of a restless sleep.

When she finally woke, the boat was tossing even more violently than before.

She pushed back the covers and sat up, checking the time-only two hours had passed.

Frustration washed over her. Every minute felt like an eternity.

Just then, someone knocked on the door.

Briony slipped on her shoes and went to answer it.

Stewart stood outside, his gaze dark and steady. "Still feeling sick?"

Briony didn't bother replying.

two hours before we dock. You haven't eaten since this morning-I asked them to prepare lunch for you. Come

"I just want to rest. Let me know when we

she shut the door

stared at the closed door, lips pressed into

a moment, he turned and walked

Stewart, but because the seasickness had killed her appetite. She could barely stand

in a haze

the yacht reached the

the boat, hand clasped over her mouth, and made it to a nearby trash can before

a bottle of water and handing it to her. She took

churning in

to rest, we can find a guesthouse nearby and wait until you

off, her

gave her a brief

...

was another twenty kilometers by car from the dock to

Shaw had rented a Volkswagen at

kilometers out from the port, the pavement narrowed, riddled

more and more primitive, her worry

through a thicket of trees and arrived at a

winding. It was impossible to take the

parked at the edge of

three of them got out, their shoes sinking into the muddy, rain-soaked lane as they walked towards

here were single-story stone cottages. Every yard had a vegetable patch, and most families kept chickens or

Briony's expression grew

in such a remote, impoverished place for the last

farther?"