Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Lorna could read his expression all too well.

She bent down and said softly to little Mario, "Go on in and see your father."

Little Mario nodded obediently and pushed the door open himself.

Cedric Clarke closed the door behind him.

Lorna asked, "How's he doing?"

Cedric Clarke gave a weary sigh and shook his head.

A frown creased Lorna's brow.

Glancing at his watch, Cedric Clarke said, "I'll head back for now. Try to talk to him again. I'll come by tomorrow."

"Alright," Lorna replied.

Once Cedric Clarke had left, Lorna opened the bedroom door and stepped inside.

Stewart was half-sitting up in bed, his left hand tucked under the covers, an IV still taped to the back of his right hand.

Little Mario was sitting quietly by his side, focused on a puzzle in his lap—small, still, and perfectly well-behaved.

Stewart gazed at his son, his eyes gentle.

It was a peaceful, almost tender scene.

Lorna approached the bed and said in a calm voice, "Dr. Clarke's left."

Stewart gave a soft response, then reached out to ruffle his son's hair. "Mario."

looked up at

trust. You

Little Mario nodded dutifully.

with Stewart, but not in front

Carol to take little Mario

Stewart and Lorna

coughed a few

had happened on the

grave. "The Lockwood Group's been making big moves lately. Whoever's backing Barrie is finally

it's clear-they know you were involved in the 'Grey Operation' all those years ago. Looks like what

frown deepened

etched on her face. "Could it have been Garry? Do you think that lunatic sold you

that far." Stewart's gaze dropped to his left hand. "He's got his grudges, sure, and he takes out on me. But he

etely reckless."

Lorna rubbed

open, Stewart. I'm afraid things aren't looking good for you this

Stewart coughed again.

narrowing. "But I won't let

he meant, but Lorna could

"Rosita's in no shape to help anymore. That leaves me. Let's

Westenmar.

rushed back to the estate from

called: Irwin was running

was still out of it, his face flushed and his mind wandering in

stood by the bed,

forehead covered by

red, lost in fever dreams. Garry's