Regretting The Wife He Threw Away

Something big had shaken up the Northborough business district in the past week.

The Kensington Group, which had been faltering for years, was bought out-lock, stock, and barrel.

Insiders whispered that the mastermind behind the acquisition was a mysterious figure known only as Mr. Seven. No one had seen him in Northborough; he'd handed the entire process over to his CEO, Keith Douglas, a man as precise as a scalpel.

With the takeover, Mr. Seven's name was suddenly on everyone's lips. In business circles, "Mr. Seven" was spoken with a kind of wary respect, but no one could say anything certain about him. All anyone knew was that he'd started out in the Astara underground market. In just ten years, he'd built an empire that spanned continents, yet not a single soul could claim to have seen his face.

Rumor had it that Mr. Seven had been left with a chronic illness in the early days of his career. Supposedly, he'd been living in seclusion ever since, focusing on his health, and that was why he never appeared in public.

But that was all hearsay-nothing confirmed.

Today, the "Kensington Group" was officially being renamed "Everton Holdings."

The company's headquarters looked brand new, the gleaming "Everton Holdings" sign catching the morning light, dazzling against the city skyline.

At ten o'clock sharp, Everton Holdings held a press conference to announce its official launch. Keith Douglas, now the acting CEO, took the stage in a crisp black suit, his handsome face composed as he addressed the crowd with calm

authority.

Below the stage, Mack lurked in the audience, hidden beneath a cap and a surgical mask.

tightly the veins on the backs

The Kensington family had been erased from the ranks of borough's

unemployed nobody, with nothing to show for

traced back to the three-year renewable energy contract that The

that project had succeeded, The Kensington Group-hemorrhaging money for years-might have come back from the

newly married, died of a sudden heart attack while on a

was thrown into chaos, and Mr. Brown's son, Waldo Brown,

hope crumbled,

struck a deal with Mr. Seven. By abandoning the renewable energy project, Waldo was essentially flushing all of The Kensington

loss. It was a calculated

grabbed a glass paperweight from his desk and hurled

a choice: pay up, or

the thought

begged her to plead

was long since done with the Kensingtons-especially

it, but Ottilie had already traded sides. She'd seduced Waldo ages

and son had been at odds for years. She'd