Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

So it was all about Irwin.

Briony wasn't surprised at least, not really.

"What have I ever done to him?" she said with a faint laugh. "Don't make it sound like I've been cruel or something."

Stewart sighed, frustration creeping into his voice. "Irwin's actually quite sensitive. Briony, I know you hold grudges against me and against Rosita, but Irwin is innocent in all this."

Briony's gaze was icy. "Innocent? And what, my son deserved what happened to him?"

"That's not what I meant."

Stewart's brow furrowed. "I get that you're angry, and you can take it all out on me

if you want. But can't you show Irwin a little more care? For the sake of his real father?"

Briony's eyes narrowed.

Of course Stewart would pull that move. When persuasion failed, he'd even invoke Irwin's heroic father for sympathy.

"Stewart, I respect heroes. But I'm just a mother who lost her child. I'm petty and small-minded—I can't possibly understand your grand generosity."

"The best I can do is not take out my pain on Irwin. But if you expect me to treat him as my own, that's simply impossible."

"You don't have to treat him like your own," Stewart said quietly. "Just... show him a little kindness."

"I don't do fake kindness," Briony replied coldly, her eyes never leaving his. "If you want someone who's good at coddling his feelings, maybe Jeannie's your best bet."

darkened. "Jeannie is just the nanny

since he has his own professional caretaker,

to Irwin in a way no one else

then how come Irwin was perfectly fine

his dark eyes steady

truly giving these shares to Little Nina, then I don't want

set the documents back on the table and

shares for Little

up the folder and held it out to her.

"Do you actually care about Little Nina? Is this your idea of fatherly love? Give her five percent of

was struck silent by

before he finally

Irwin. Please, just accept the

short, cold laugh. "If you really mean it, give

lingered

was unyielding; there was no room for

his voice dropped. "Fine.

and

his grasp and strode toward

of the watercolor Stewart had pressured her to finish four years ago. She barely glanced at it and kept walking, never slowing

until she disappeared from the